As Good As You
by Cardio Necrosis
Summary: After spending most of her life trying to convince her brother that demons were fantastical nonsense, Kathryn Daltry finds out that she was wrong all along in the worst way possible--by finding out she's a slayer. Spike/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or any of the characters you recognize. I am not Joss Whedon, because if I were, I would be rolling in the dough. No, literally. I would buy a bunch of dough and roll in it. Although I suppose I would also have a lot of cash.**

As Good As You

The moment Kathryn Daltry's life changed was simple--one that is barely even worth mentioning. It was a moment anyone would have overlooked--in fact, Kathryn did. No meteors crashed to earth, there wasn't a vat of toxic waste involved, and there wasn't an incident with a radioactive spider. She didn't suddenly start flying or burst into flames. She didn't play chicken with the train and knock it off the tracks.

She simply took out the garbage.

It wasn't the garbage that made the moment significant--that was just what she happened to be doing at the time. It was well past midnight, and her only source of light came from the dingy bulb on the porch. Kathryn knew it was silly to be afraid of the dark at the age of eighteen, but she couldn't help it. In the darkness, a tree could look like a three-headed monster. The dark shapes made frightening forms. It was such a childish thing to fear, but she did.

As she was throwing the black sack into the green garbage outside of her house, she felt suddenly dizzy. She shook her head and blinked a few times, feeling an odd sensation in the back of her mind, almost like she remembered something she'd been pondering for awhile. A second later, she brushed it off and completely forgot about it. After all, it wasn't the first time she'd had a head rush--and she wasn't the only person to ever have one. Why would she have paid this one any mind?

It wasn't like she knew that it was an important moment in her life; the second everything changed.

* * *

There were plenty of other things Kathryn could have been doing. Actually, things she _should_ have been doing, like the five page essay on the economical effects WWII had on Germany and Austria, or perhaps the fifty-question math assignment. And she knew damn well she was going to be up until daybreak finishing her assignments and she knew that she was going to be frustrated and irritated the entire next day. She also knew that she would swear to never procrastinate again, just like she promised herself ever since she started getting homework.

Fact was, Kathryn had a hard time grasping the concept of algebra, and when it came to the economical effects of Germany and Austria after WWII, she knew she was going to fail that. No matter how many times she read accounts of it on the internet or looked over that chapter in the book, she could not make her essay long enough. No matter what she wrote or how many times she tried to start it, it always sounded like a text book reiteration, and she didn't understand a damn word of it.

So instead of doing her homework like she would later that night, until the skies burned orange with sunrise, she sat on the couch and flipped through the stations, tryign to find something to watch.

"Hey, whatchya doin'?" her brother asked as he walked into the living room.

"Oh, just tryin' to find something to watch. You can pick something if you want."

Kyle scoffed. "Can't. Aidan hasn't showed up to work again, so they just called me in. I swear to God I hate him," he grumbled as he finished walking down the stairs. "We've been here a month, and I already can't stand that place. Sometimes I wish I were back in school," he told her as he ran his hand through his messy black hair. "Back then, at least you usually had to cover your own ass, and you didn't have to make up for someone else's mistakes. You screwed up your assignment, and only you failed. Now it's like someone else fails and you're the one who gets it up the ass. Well, you only get it up the ass if it's the boss's son who never shows and God knows no one's gonna fire the boss's son."

"Do you know what time you'll be home?"

"No idea, but if this keeps up, I might as well tell them to forget about giving me days off because we all know that never happens anyway. But anyway, could you do me a favour?" he asked.

"What is it?"

"You know that guy I talk to?"

"Could you be more specific?"

"Grigori," he told her.

"Oh, yeah, the internet guy. Well, one of them."

"Well, he lives here in Sunnydale. One of the reasons I didn't hate dad for packing us up and moving here. Anyway, he's got a book for me and I was supposed to pick it up, but seeing as Aidan the Douche decided to do God knows what instead of work, I can't do it. Could you get it for me?"

Kathryn sighed and rubbed her temples in irritation. "Is it one of your vampire books?" she inquired dully although she already knew the answer.

"Could we not get into that today?"

She sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll go get it. But you owe me--you know how I hate all this vampire crap."

Kyle stood up straighter and widened his hazel eyes. "It's not crap, Kathryn, and you know it. Somewhere in there you _have_ to know it." There were a few things that her and her brother disagreed on, but the only one he was ever truly angry about her not agreeing on him with was the vampire stuff. Whenever she even insinuated it was all fantasy, he would start getting uppity.

It wasn't that she blamed him for wanting to believe in that. Everybody wanted to believe in the supernatural--in something beyond just human existence and everyday mundane reality--but one day everybody had to wake up and realize that everyday mundane life was really all there ever was and ever would be. Although her brother was five years older than she was, he had never woken up from fantasy world. She understood why he refused to let go of his childish dreams, but sometimes she wished he'd just get over it.

"Fine, I'll get it. Just give me an address."

His face broke out into a smile and he hurried went over to the coffee table, vainly tossing his longish bangs out of his eyes as he leant over and scribbled something down on a napkin their father had wiped up spilled coffee with.

"Now, his name is Rupert. Just tell him that you're Kyle's sister, and he'll know what book to give you," he said as he handed her the napkin.

She looked over the address, then nodded. "Okay. He's not expecting any cash or anything, is he?"

"Oh, right, here," he said, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out he cash and handed it to her. "Now, I've paid half already--the deal was half before and half after--so do not give him this until you have the book in your hands, understand? I don't want to get ripped off."

She quickly counted the cash. "This is six hundred dollars, Kyle! How the hell can you afford a book more than a thousand bucks?"

"I've been saving for it for a long time, all right? The books I need aren't ever cheap. It's not like it's something you can just pick up at Barnes and Noble. Do you understand me? Do not give him the cash until you have the book in your hands. He'll know which one to give you." He started over to the door, the evening sky filling the living room. "Try to get back before dark. We live on a Hellmouth--one of the reasons I _hated_ Dad for moving us here."

When the door slammed, Kathryn leaned the back of her head against the couch and closed her eyes in frustration. "I'm so sick of all this," she groaned.

That's all her brother ever talked about. Hellmouths and vampires and demons and slayers. She couldn't honestly understand how anyone at his age could believe that stuff was real. It was to the point that Kyle would watch horror movies with her and he would point out the inaccuracies to the demon itself. At least he had the decency to only talk about it in front of his family, and other nutjobs on the internet, like Grigori--also known as Rupert, apparently. She didn't even want to think about what would happen to him if she started telling random people on the street or at his job about that crap. She loved her brother, but sometimes, she honestly worried about his mental stability.

Being scared of shapeless forms in the dark was one thing--although what she saw frightened her, she knew that it was just an overactive imagination and not real. Actually believing the monsters in the dark were real was something else altogether.

* * *

The house was actually quite decent-looking. Then again, the last group of people Kyle decided to meet in real life had been set up in an dingy looking detective agency with a crappy elevator. Hopefully this one didn't claim to be a soul-having vampire searching for redemption. Honestly, it was one thing to humour her brother and listen to his stories to avoid an argument. She wouldn't have minded if the guy believed in the demon stuff as well. But to exploit her brother's beliefs and take advantage of him and mock him by letting him believe he'd actually met a redemptive vampire was rude, and as far as she was concerned, that bastard could rot in hell.

Unless he actually believed he was a vampire with a soul searching for redemption, and in that case, she wished he'd go get a CAT scan or some psychiatric help, at least.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, but just as she was about to, she saw a note. She plucked it off of the door with a sigh.

_Kyle--_

_Something unexpected arose at the hospital, and it took precedence. I apologize for my absence. The book is on the table. Leave the money in its place._

_--Rupert Giles (Grigori)_

The only reason she noticed that there was no direct invitation into his house was because her brother also never gave direct invitation into their house. It was always either him stepping back and widening the door, or some other such way that wasn't verbal. She could always tell when Kyle had met someone who truly believed the crap compared to people who were trying to con him out of something or were just trying to mock him. Anybody who really believed the things her brother believed never gave out verbal invites, and never met past dark unless necessary. To them, a verbal invite could mean death (as ridiculous as that sounded) and someone serious about the existence of vampires and such would not be flippant about inviting strangers into his home. At least this guy wasn't conning her brother out of his money. That's all she really cared about.

She opened the door and stepped in, shutting the door with a shake of her head. There was a book on the table, as the note promised. She crumbled up the note and threw it in the nearby garbage can as she fished through her purse.

She went over and looked at the book. No wonder it was so expensive--it was old as hell. The cover was in thick leather and it was scratched and worn, with meaningless designs etched into it. The binding was weary, but it didn't look like it would fall apart anytime soon. She tossed the cash on the table and picked up the book, opening it and looking at the pages. The pages weren't made of normal paper--it was made of something thicker and some of the ink was nearly faded. She closed it and tucked it under her arm.

She was nearly to the door when she heard; "So are you gonna let me out or what?"

She jumped, then let out a sigh. Whoever had yelled that had frightened her. She heard banging noises coming from the same direction as the voice. "Come on! This is bloody ridiculous!" the British man shouted more insistently.

She followed the banging and frustrated grunts to a closed door, more than a little curious as to what was going on. She opened the door and stepped into the bathroom. "Finally. God, my wrists are starting to chafe."

He seemed to have noticed her the same time she noticed him. There was a bleached blonde man with his hair slicked back chained in a bathtub. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly, but she was sure his shocked expression was nothing compared to hers.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked incredulously, like she had somehow interrupted something private.

"What the hell are you doing chained in a bathtub?" she countered.

He looked down at the chains, then he looked back at her. His blue eyes found the book tucked under her arm. "Not stealing, are you? 'Cause if you are, I can show you a couple of records that'll make quite a decent bit of cash if you hock it. Only if I get half, though."

"I'm not stealing. My brother paid for this."

"Looks like one of those demon books. You're not one of the Scoobs are you? I bloody well swear Summers gets more groupies every time I turn my back."

"Scoobs, what? No. I don't even know what you're talking about. My brother talks to that Rupert guy on the internet, is all. You're not one of those . . . vampire guys, are you?" she asked with a slight note of exasperation in her voice.

He worked the chains a bit and shifted around uncomfortably in the porcelain tub. Kathryn imagined that it couldn't have been very pleasant. "Define vampire guys." He jerked the chains a bit as if trying to break out of them, and she thought she saw a flicker of fear, as if she were going to attack him or something.

"Oh, you know, people who believe in vampires and demons and stuff. That's why my brother bought the book--he believes in that crap."

"So I take it you don't then? Believe in that sort of thing?" he asked.

She scoffed and shook her head. "No, I don't. No offence if you do or whatever, but it's all just fantasy. It's just some stupid little fairytale people like my brother hold onto so they don't have to deal with reality. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but . . . Well he just spent over a thousand dollars on a book about demons thinking they're real when they're not. Money he could have spent on something we actually need. Dad isn't going to be pleased if he ever finds out."

The man blinked a few times, then nodded. "Right, me too. Load of tosh, that demon nonsense. Anyway, could you get me outta here?" He lifted his wrists and jingled the chains a bit.

She nodded and out the toilet seat down so she could set the book on it. "Well yeah. Where are the keys?"

"Right there," he asked, pointing. She followed the direction of his finger and found them, the dim bathroom light glinting off of them a bit.

She grabbed them and knelt beside the tub. "So why are you chained in this tub anyway?"

"Well, uh . . . It's a long story, luv . . ." he mumbled, and she looked at him, noticing that he blanched slightly. "You're not one of Buffy's mates, right? You're sure?"

"Who's Buffy?" she asked.

"Never mind. But, um . . . I was stayin' with this guy, Xander, and he's a bloody pouf, and he didn't like me stayin' in his basement--not that I particularly liked it either--and so he sent me off here, and Giles doesn't exactly trust me to be alone in his house and Buffy didn't exactly feel like havin' me come along so he chained me up."

"And when you were staying with a guy, do you mean--" she began tentatively as she undid the shackles around his wrist.

"--being forced to stay with a whelp I can't stand simply 'cause I had nowhere else to go," he finished for her as he massaged his wrists.

She nodded as she started undoing the shackles around his ankles. "And what didn't they want you coming along to do?"

"Happy-happy joy-joy group singing and trust issue therapy; I don't bloody know. Don't really care for them much anyway. But, point is, they think I'm gonna take off or somethin', don't trust me a lot, not that I care I like 'em about as much as being stabbed through the chest with a hot poker, so . . ."

He stood up in the tub and stretched his arms over his head. She heard his back pop and then he stepped out of the tub. "So they just chain you up? That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"You really don't know them, do you?" he said incredulously.

She shook her head and put the keys where she found them, and then picked up her purse from off of the floor and took the book off of the toilet seat. "No, I've never even met any of these people. My brother just talks to Rupert on the internet. He's into the whole demon thing."

"Ah, right. So are they."

"But you're not?" she asked tentatively.

He shook his head. "Nope. So what are you doin' here then? Just pickin' up that book? Why couldn't your brother do it?"

"Some idiot didn't show up for work so they called him in, and he asked me to pick it up from him." She left the bathroom and the guy followed her out of it. "So what's you name, anyway?" she asked.

"Spike," he answered. Kathryn thought it was a weird name, but figured it probably wasn't his real one so she didn't' say anything. "What about you, luv?"

"Kathryn."

"Where you headed to now, Kathryn?"

She shrugged. "Just home. I have homework to do."

"Walking home in the dark? You sure your brother would approve? A nasty beastie might eat you," he said, pointing at the window.

She looked out of it and saw the night sky. She groaned. "Dammit I hate walking home in the dark," she grumbled, then looked at Spike, who was cocking an eyebrow. "And not because of nasty beasties. I just don't like to."

"Right, o' course. You need someone to walk you there? Not that I really give a damn, but it beats bein' chained up in a tub."

Kathryn looked him over. She didn't really know him, and she was sure that there would be a reason for them to mistrust him enough to chain him up in a tub, and suddenly she wondered if she should have undone him.

"If you don't want me to, I won't care. I can think of something else to do to pass the time. I really don't care much about you walkin' all alone in the dark," he said, shrugging, and she really got the feeling he honestly didn't care what she wanted.

She thought about having to walk all the way back to her house in the dark, and she absolutely loathed the dark. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

He nodded once, and started over to the door. He grabbed a leather duster off of the hat stand and put it on. "Let's go then."

* * *

A/N--All right, so for continuity's sake, this fic takes place after _Hush,_ but before _A New Man._ Please review--I would greatly appreciate it.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathryn wasn't quite sure what she thought about Spike. Something about him made her uneasy, but she had no idea why. It was the same feeling she got whenever she had to leave the house for a moment in the middle of the night--although she knew that there was nothing out there and that it was perfectly safe, she still didn't like doing it. But she had no idea why she felt that way, because he never invaded her personal space or made any threatening comments. He just sauntered beside her, chin tilted up arrogantly while he talked. She noticed he gestured a lot while he spoke. So there wasn't really any reason for her to feel as she did.

She just chalked it up to the fact she was walking around at night, which was always creepy anyway. But because of it, she didn't really talk as much as she normally would have.

"And this is me," she said when the made it to her lawn.

"So, what? Mum and Dad home? They're not gonna get angry at you bein' home so late, are they?"

"Well I'm eighteen so I can pretty much do what I want, and I don't have a mom. It's just me and my brother and my dad."

He scoffed. "Mum run off then? Not the parental type or what?"

Kathryn cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her head with her free hand. "Actually, um . . . My mom and sister were killed when I was five, so . . . yeah."

"Oh."

"Well, it's kinda why my brother's into this whole demon crap. He was ten when it happened, so he remembers a lot of it. He swears up and down vampires killed them, but they were really just robbers or gangsters or something. They slit my mom's throat and my sister's too--stupid assholes, she was only seven--but, um . . . You know, I don't really remember much of it. Just tiny flashes, here and there. I remember my dad bursting in--I think he was at work--and sirens, but . . . I don't know. I was pretty young."

"Did you get hurt or anything?" he asked, but oddly enough, he didn't really sound very interested.

"Um, I have a scar on my shoulder, kinda, and I had stitches on my lip, so yeah, but . . . I don't really know why. Like I said, I don't really remember much. But anyway, my brother said vampires did it. So yeah. He just doesn't want to accept the truth, so he . . . . Yeah, well . . . Anyway . . ."

She started up the walk and Spike followed her. She opened the door and looked back to see him standing on the porch, smiling a bit expectantly at her. "Come in, I'll get you a drink or something before you leave."

He stepped into the house and grinned at her. "Got any beer?"

She thought for a moment. "Um . . . Yeah, I think. Maybe." She led him into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were a few bottles of beer, so she pulled one out, the coolness of the glass shocking her a bit. She handed it over to him. "Here you go."

"You gonna have one?" he asked and he twisted off the cap to the beer and started drinking.

"Nah."

"You old enough?" he asked between sips, his blue eyes suddenly darker when focused on her, one side of his mouth lifting upwards.

"No, I'm only eighteen."

"You care about that? I won't tell if you drink some."

"I just don't like beer," she told him.

He shrugged and took a long swig of it.

"Who the hell is this?" Kyle asked as he randomly stepped into the kitchen.

Kathryn jumped and dropped the book and her purse onto the floor and got into a defensive position. Spike glanced at her, looking a bit unwary, and Kyle raised her eyebrows at her. She looked down at the way she held her fists and the stance she was in. It threw her off because she'd never done that before. She shook her head. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at work," she said as she lowered her fists.

"Like two minutes after I got there Aidan decided to drag his happy ass into work so I wasted my gas and my time. But who the hell is this, then? Doubt he goes to school with you, unless he got held back a couple of years. He looks _my_ age."

"Oh, um, he was at Rupert's house. This is Spike."

Kyle folded his arms across his chest and looked Spike over, who calmly took another drink of beer after he nodded at him in greeting. "Spike the vampire?" Kyle sneered.

Spike choked on the beer.

"What?"

"Did you invite him in the house? Did you verbally invite him?"

"I don't know, I don't exactly write down every time I let someone in the house. Probably."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" he exclaimed, suddenly in Kathryn's face, towering over her, his hazel eyes flashing. "Are you that stupid? You don't just invite strangers into the house, especially at night! Did you forget we are living on the Hellmouth? Dammit, Kathryn, I swear to God--"

"Hellmouths, vampires, demons, blah, blah, blah. God, get the hell over this. You're not five," she spat, then went to brush past him, but he stepped in the way. "Seriously, Kyle, he was just getting a drink. Rupert wasn't there, but he was, and it was dark, and he offered to walk me home, okay? I was just being nice."

"You don't know who he is. You don't understand the danger you've just put us all in!"

Kathryn scoffed and rolled her eyes, feeling anger start to boil in the pit of her stomach. "Why? Because he's a bloodsucking fiend? Is that it?"

"Yeah," he told her, like she should have known all along. "Kinda famous, too."

She held her forehead in her hand and clenched her teeth together, trying so hard not to start yelling at him. "Oh, my God, it's like Angel all over again." She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long breath. "I can't believe this." She looked back at him and shook her head. "This is ridiculous, Kyle. Completely ridiculous," she ground out through her teeth.

Spike was standing by casually, as if this happened every day, and sipped his beer. He almost looked amused.

"No, it isn't ridiculous! What _is_ ridiculous is the fact you never listen to me! I tell you time after time not to let people in the house, not to give them a verbal invitation, and the next thing I know, you have Spike standing in our kitchen drinking my beer!"

Kathryn made an odd growling noise, then turned to Spike. "I'm sorry about this. I really am. This is what I was talking about."

He shrugged and took another drink. "Don't worry. I'm used to it. You should hear the stuff they talk about."

"Get the hell out of my house," Kyle snapped, pointing at the door. "I'll call Buffy on you; I know her number."

Spike scoffed. "Ooh, now I'm really scared."

"I said get the hell out!" Kyle yelled, stepping in front of Spike, who was a few inches shorter than her brother.

Spike lowered the beer from his lips and stood up straighter, looking into Kyle's eyes. For being a bit shorter than him, he could actually look quite intimidating, and Kyle's confidence visibly faltered. "What was that?" Spike asked threateningly.

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Kathryn said, realizing this was getting out of hand quickly. "Maybe you should just leave."

It seemed that the two of them were deaf because they, apparently, didn't hear a word she said. Kyle stood up a bit straighter and narrowed his hazel eyes. "I told you to get out," he repeated, pointing at the door.

"Make me, pouf."

Kyle punched him square in the face, but Spike barely even stumbled--it was almost like it hardly affected him at all. However, when Spike hit Kyle in return, it knocked him on his ass and he skidded on the floor a bit, and Spike let out a growl of pain and grabbed his forehead for some reason unbeknownst to Kathryn.

Despite the fact that Kyle had not only punched him first, but had started an argument with her as well, she reared back her fist and punched Spike. She must have caught him off guard because he actually stumbled backwards and dropped his bottle of beer--which had obviously been in the hand he hadn't used to punch Kyle--and it shattered on the ground. He tripped over his own feet and fell, staring up at her in surprise, as blood started dripping down his chin and his cut lip started swelling, blood trickling slightly from his nose as well.

Kyle stood up, nursing a spot on his jaw that was already bruising. "I'm calling Buffy," he threatened, which made him sound like a whiny little child.

Spike's eyes were on Kathryn, whose lips were pursed and her fist was still clenched. He was staring at her like he had never seen a woman in his life. "You do that," he muttered absently as he stood back up slowly, looking Kathryn over.

Kyle ran out of the kitchen and Spike took a step forward. She jerked back her fist and he lifted up both of his hands in surrender. "Hey now, don't haul off and hit me again, yeah?"

"What did you expect then? You hit my brother and I don't even know you."

"Right, yeah, sorry 'bout that, he just got up in my face and hit me first, or do you not remember that?"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"He hit me first, luv. Did you expect me to just stand there and let him?" As much as Kathryn hated to admit it, he was right. She lowered her fist, but she wasn't happy about it. "You hit pretty well, luv."

"Well you hit my brother. It was instinct. Sort of. I've never hit anybody before, actually." She furrowed her eyes. It really wasn't instinct for her to haul off and punch someone, seeing as she'd never done it before, and this wasn't the first time her brother had been in a fight. For some reason, it just felt right to hit him.

He pressed the back of his hand to his lip, then checked the blood on his skin. "Yeah, well . . . . You hit like a pro." He glanced at her briefly before his eyes returned to the blood smeared across his skin.

Kathryn reached forward to hold his jaw and check his lip, but he jerked away from her and looked at her like she'd grown another head. "Oh, sorry, I wasn't--I was just, um . . . making sure you were okay," she finished weakly, clearing her throat.

"I'll be fine. I've been hit before," he told her, wiping the blood that trickled out of his nose off his face.

"Well, the least I could do it get you a cold rag," she said, brushing past him and putting a hand to her forehead. She knew she should have felt apologetic, but at the moment, she was just confused, and uncomfortable.

Spike was being (in her opinion) a bit too nonchalant about being knocked off his feet. The adrenaline was still running through her veins slightly, almost like she was furious with him, or like she was about to get into a fight with him. Personally, she didn't want to fight with anybody, and she really had no idea why she reacted the way she had. Her brother had gone off on Spike for no reason at all, and he had done the natural thing and defended himself.

Spike was following her. She could hear his sniffs and annoyed scoffs, as well as the soft clunks his boots made along her floor. She glanced behind her and saw that he was staring at her. "What?"

"You said you were getting a rag," he reminded.

"Well, yeah, but--" She shut her mouth, realising that she'd been about to tell him to stop following her. He waited for her to continue , but then she smiled. "Right. Okay. Never mind."

Since the bathroom on the bottom floor was closer, she hurried to it, and switched on the light. He went to walk in the bathroom, but when he glanced at the sink, he stepped backwards and apparently decided against it. Kathryn did wonder if it was because the bottom floor bathroom was a bit small, but seeing as she wasn't too comfortable with the idea of being in the cramped bathroom with him she didn't press the matter.

She grabbed the first rag she saw and turned on the cold water, running the rag underneath it. While she did that, she looked at herself in the mirror habitually, which was right above the sink. She wasn't quite sure if she liked how short her hair was. She had recently cut it to her jaw, whereas before it had been to the bottom of her shoulder blades. It wasn't that she didn't like how it had looked, it was just that she had curly hair, and as anybody with curly hair knew, it was much harder and time consuming to take care of when it was long. Although she did miss the way her brunette hair had looked with her curls falling down her back, she did not miss having to comb through it for hours at times, or the tears from having to yank combs through snarls or the horrid mess it could be if she didn't use the right amount of product or even sometimes when she did. No, although the tight curls only falling to her jaw didn't look as pretty, it was far simpler to comb, and it didn't take nearly as much time to do. She supposed she preferred comfort over beauty.

She sighed, then wrung out the rag before turning off the sink. She looked out of the bathroom to see Spike leaning against the wall, blood still trickling from his lip. The area underneath his nose was red, but it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. She walked over to him and handed him the rag. "Here," she said.

He took it from her and pressed it against his bottom lip. "Bit vain are we?" he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Staring at yourself, luv. Bouncin' your hair a bit."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and she cleared her throat. "Oh, right, um--I just cut my hair. Not sure I like it. It was a lot longer."

He looked at her hair. "Natural curls then? Might know somethin' 'bout that."

She folded her arms and nodded awkwardly. He stared into her eyes and she looked away, focusing on any part of him except for his eyes. At first she eyed his cheekbones, which were his prominent features, but then she glanced up at his slicked back hair and finally the cut on his eyebrow.

"I like it. Your hair," he said after a few seconds.

"Thanks." She smiled briefly at him, looking over his clothing style. "I like your coat. And the Doc Martins."

He nodded, and she got the feeling that he was just as aware of the awkwardness as she was. "I can go, if you like. 'Sides, think you an' your brother should prob'ly finish up that argument."

"Yeah, you're probably right." She started over to the door and heard him following her again. She really didn't like him behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kyle demanded as he walked out of the living room, the bruise along his jaw much darker now and the side of his mouth swollen.

"Does it matter, mate?"

"You can't go anywhere. I can't get a hold of Buffy, and I'm not letting you leave until she gets here." He looked Spike over with obvious disgust. "You haven't killed her, have you?"

"Oh my God, Kyle, just leave him alone, okay?"

"Have you done anything to her?"

"No, I haven't," Spike told him.

"But I can't get a hold of her."

"You are aware of what time it is, yeah?"

Kyle cleared his throat. "Oh. Yeah. But you can't leave until she gets here. I don't trust you out there, and you know she won't be happy if you go out. Oh, and I left a message on her machine, with my number and address, so she will stop by."

"Is Buffy your girlfriend or something?" Kathryn asked

"No," Spike said so vehemently that it made Kathryn jump. Not to mention the way his head snapped in her direction and he looked like he was about to deck her in the face.

"Sorry, I didn't know. Why the hell should she care if you're here? Really."

"Same reason they chain me to a tub, I wager."

"Which is so you won't take off," she stated, remembering when he told her that. He nodded. "Why don't they want you taking off?" she inquired, wondering why on earth she hadn't thought to ask before.

"'Cause he's a vampire," Kyle suggested spitefully.

Kathryn opened her mouth to snap at her brother, but Spike talked over her. "Yes, we're all bloody fascinated with your opinion, mate. Keep talking."

Kyle was either deaf to the sarcasm or didn't care, because he did just that. "But he has a chip in his head so he can't hurt living things, but he can hurt other demons. So they don't want to stake him because he's harmless, but they don't want him taking off."

Spike turned and looked at Kathryn. He lowered his head a little and blinked at her, shaking his head the tiniest bit. She blinked at him, then they both turned and looked at Kyle, who was looking between them, with a betrayed look on his face.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of." Out of all the things he had said, she never would have thought he could have surprised her with his stupidity. But somehow, he'd managed to.

"It's true!"

Her and Spike shared a look, and Spike shrugged, just pressing the rag against his lip again.

"He's a vampire and he has a chip in his head, I swear!"

"You know what, I'll just stay. Don't wanna cause more problems with her than I already have. But if you don't mind, can we take it somewhere where he . . . . isn't?"

Kathryn looked at her brother's betrayed face, at his shimmering eyes, and then at Spike. It wouldn't be the first time she'd picked someone over Kyle. She still felt guilty though--but she couldn't help how she felt. How could he possibly expect her to believe that? It was common knowledge that she didn't believe in that demon nonsense, and even if what he did say happened to be true, why would it be such a big deal? Like he said, Spike 'had a chip in his head that prevented him from hurting living things.' Which was obviously untrue, not only because of the demons, but because she'd seen Spike punch Kyle.

"Yeah, you can go into my room. It's upstairs, first door on the right," she said. He turned towards the stairs and started to go up them. "Do _not_ get any ideas." He turned back to her and looked her up and down, then finished going up the stairs.

Kyle walked closer to her and pointed up the stairs. "You're letting him into your room? What's the matter with you?" he whispered harshly.

"What's the matter with _me?_ Do you realize you just _attacked_ someone? Do you understand how crazy you sound? I mean, God, talking about that stuff with me is one thing, but you can't say that sort of thing around strangers! Don't you get it? You could get carted away for saying stuff like that--for attacking someone because you thought he was a vampire! You're just lucky he hangs around people like you, otherwise it might be like Angel all over again! No wait, it could have been worse!"

"Keep your voice down; he might hear you," Kyle ordered.

"I don't care! I honestly don't! You go around talking about these delusional things, these stupid, paranoid demon-y things and attack people and you wonder why I'm pissed off? Dammit, Kyle, you wasted over a thousand bucks on a book! _A book!_ Because God knows we don't need money in this new town--"

"I didn't waste anything--"

"--which you claim is a hellmouth thing--"

"--that book is centuries old--"

"--and I'm so sick of it! I really am! You keep this up and you'll be in a straight jacket!"

"So you think I'm insane, do you? Think I'm some sort of schizo then? I used my own money for that book, thanks, and excuse me for tryin' to protect you!"

"Vampires and demons and slayers don't exist, Kyle! They just don't!"

"Mom and Kelly dropped dead for no reason then?"

"No, they were murdered--by humans! And I'm sorry, but I just can't do it anymore! I just can't! You're attacking people! God!" she shouted, then turned away from him, storming up the stairs, leaving him at the bottom of them.

Sometimes, she swore she hated Kyle. It sucked having a nutcase for a brother.

* * *

A/N--Hello all, and welcome to the second chapter of my Buffy fic. Well, welcome to the end, anyway. Please leave a review, if you have the time. I accept anonymous reviews, as well.


	3. Chapter 3

She went into her room and slammed the door shut, anger exploding in her stomach and storming through her veins.

"Everything all right?" Spike said.

She'd forgotten he was in here, and his voice startled her. He was lying on her bed with his hands behind his head. The rag was on the floor, like he'd just tossed it among her dirty clothes. If she wasn't so frustrated with her brother, she probably would have been a bit embarrassed at the fact her room was a bit messy.

"I'm fine," she obviously lied.

"Uh-huh." She hadn't expected him to believe her. "So what's this Angel thing you keep talkin' 'bout?"

She shook her head and looked around the room, folding her arms and pursing her lips. She saw a few pieces of clothing littered around her room, and her backpack was on the floor. It had been on her bed, but he'd obviously shoved it off. Her math book had fallen out of her bag and that reminded her of her homework, but she hastily pushed that into the back of her mind.

"At my old school--we just moved here like a month ago," she added, and he nodded. "Well, we lived in LA before here."

"S'where your mum and sis died then?"

She started ambling over to her bed. "Nah, we lived up north then. But anyway, I was sixteen--it was my sophomore year--and I'd been paired with this guy for a history project. His name was Angel. And he was pretty cute too, and we sorta flirted in class and all that. Well, he asked to come over on Saturday, after work, so it was like nine when he got there."

"Past dark then," Spike added, and she knew he was catching on.

She sat on the edge of her bed, near his feet. "Yep. I didn't really know much about him, just thought he was cute, so I never talked about him at home or anything, but my dad didn't mind--he let us go up to my room and study. But then Kyle got home from work, and he came up to say hi to me, and saw Angel sitting with me on my bed. We weren't doing anything, we were just studying, so he asked who he was."

Spike nodded, urging her on. "So?"

"Well, apparently, there's this Angel vampire guy--Angelus or something--and I guess he's famous. The Scourge of Europe, or something like that."

"Right, well, what sort of guy goes around intendin' to strike fear in others' hearts with a pouf name like Angel?" he asked irritably.

Kathryn shrugged. "I don't really care. All I know is that he freaked out, pretty much like he did today. Kyle started demanding he leave and all that, and Angel was trying to be all diplomatic or whatever, and then Kyle starting harping on me for inviting him into the house, and Angel was like 'that's enough, don't talk to your sister that way' and Kyle ended up punching him in the face."

"Sounds familiar, that," Spike interjected with a snort.

"So they started wrestling around on the floor, fighting, making a bunch of noise, and my dad came up to see what was going on. He broke them apart, but then Kyle started in on his demon talk, yelling about the Scourge of Europe and all this other insane stuff. So my dad--who is normally pretty laid back about the vampire stuff, you know, just nods and goes along with it--started yelling at him for attacking Angel. Angel just sat there and listened to the argument, listened to my dad and Kyle talk about Kyle's psycho internet friends and then about four thousand years later the argument ended and Angel decided to go home.

"I was so embarrassed I called him up and left a message on his machine, apologizing for my brother, telling him that he wasn't well, that my mom and sister died when I was little and it screwed him up. I was afraid he was going to press charges--Angel was sixteen and my brother was twenty-one, and that's attacking a minor, Kyle could have gotten into serious trouble."

"Obviously he didn't press charges, though."

"No, but the next day at school, I find out that Kyle doesn't want to be my partner anymore, and he told everybody what a freak my brother was, and from then on, I sorta didn't have friends anymore. The rest of the year everybody teased me, I failed the class because no one wanted to be my partner, and I had to take a summer course to make up the credit. After that I didn't even bother trying. I mean, I'd have conversations with people and stuff, but I didn't want to take anyone home. I'm pretty sure not very many people were interested anyway."

Spike nudged her with the tip of his Doc Martins and she looked at him. "You wouldn't have wanted to be with him anyway. Name like Angel, you know he's gotta be a pouf."

She chuckled lightly. "Yeah, well, doesn't matter, just before we moved here, Kyle found the 'real' Angel. Some psycho who thinks he's a vampire with a soul. He owns a detective agency actually. He was from here, I guess. Kyle started talking about the place when he came back, Dad looked it up, and found that the houses were really cheap. Got a job transfer, and here we are. So, that wasn't too bad. Get to start over. Haven't made any friends or anything yet, but nobody at that school knows my brother is crazy, so . . . You know, I just wish he'd get over it. I'm afraid that the wrong person will find out what he believes and get him sent to an asylum or something."

She waited for him to say something, but he remained quiet, just looking at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and he must have realized what he was doing, because he cleared his throat and shrugged with an eye-roll. "I wouldn't worry too much 'bout it. Nothin's happened this far; doubt much will change. Just make sure he stops assaultin' people, yeah?"

She scoffed. "Yeah, okay." She looked him over, and at how calm he seemed to be. "They do this a lot too? I mean, you don't seem really concerned or anything."

"They tie me to a tub, luv. You think I give a damn about a few hits?"

"Why are you with them? I mean, if you don't believe in vampires and stuff . . ."

"Didn't really have a choice. I mean, you heard what I said about the lot on the way over here. You think I'd go to them just for the pleasure? Nah, I've known 'em for years. Hate with a passion. Knew that Angel bloke, too. He's so full of himself. Came by 'cause we're old, er . . . Well, friends, for lack of a better term, and I needed something from him for Dru--she's my girl--well, I mean she _was_ my girl, 'til Angel swept her off her feet. We left, but Dru, she just . . . was different. So I came back. Wanted to take it out on the lot of them, but, well, one thing led to another, life went to hell, and I found myself in a situation where they were the only ones I could go to, and so . . . . here I am."

"Your girlfriend left you for a guy who thought he was a soul-having vampire?" she asked.

"Yeah, well . . . She was a bit . . . Different. She wasn't . . . she was out of her mind. Bit crazy. Touched," he said, with a fond smile on his face.

"You . . . dated a mentally handicap girl? That's like taking advantage of someone."

"What? Not like that--she didn't have down syndrome. She just . . . heard voices; saw things. She knew what she was doin' when she left me," he grumbled, his voice taking on a darker tone. "I tried to pretend that she didn't, but . . ." He shook his head and looked away, and she thought she heard his voice crack slightly.

She scooted closer to him so that she could pat his shoulder awkwardly. "Sorry. How long were you guys together?"

"A long time. Years." He looked back at her and he had a nostalgic smile on his face, and she saw a reverent gleam in his eyes. "I loved her. She was . . . She was amazing. She was everything to me. I thought . . . I thought we would last forever. But I guess she never loved me like I loved her. She loved Angel. Always did."

"I'm sorry."

The faraway expression on his face disappeared and he shrugged, letting out a scoff. "It's fine, I don't even care anymore," he said hastily, but judging by how he blanched slightly--not to mention how he'd been acting earlier--she could tell he really did care.

There were a few timid knocks, and Kathryn stood up, going over to the door. She opened it, but didn't recognize the person on the other side. "Um . . . hi?" she greeted, looking her over.

The girl didn't look much older than her. She had short red hair that framed her face, and big, green eyes. She smiled quickly and waved at her. "Hello. I'm Willow. Um, I'm here to pick up Spike. I got the message."

"Oh, right. The nice one," she said, remembering something Spike had said about her when he'd walked her home, during his long, wildly gestured tirade.

"The nice one? Aww," she said, looking past Kathryn and smiling sweetly at Spike.

Kathryn opened the door wider and Willow stepped in, folding her arms casually. Spike sat up properly. "Yeah, well, don't mention it," he grumbled as he swung his feet off of the bed. "Buffy couldn't come? Oh, I am terribly offended. I don't know what I will do without her nagging."

Willow didn't take offence--or at least, she didn't seem like it--to his sarcasm. "She's at the hospital still."

"Oh, is our heroine dying?" he asked, sounding far too cheery for Kathryn's tastes. "Oh I am deeply sympathetic."

"No," Willow said, but it sounded more like she was reprimanding a child. "She's fine. It's just, Faith died."

"The one that was trying to kill you all?" he asked as he hopped up. Off Willow's nod, he actually frowned, and Kathryn was stunned. Good Lord, was she one of those who believed in vampires too? How far did these people take it? "Huh. That really is a shame," he muttered, and it sounded like he meant it, but Kathryn figured he was just being sarcastic again.

"Not for us. But Buffy and Giles are all in a conniption over it," she said in an offhand way. "You know, because Faith was the Slayer and all. Well, the other one. Well, the one that was called 'cause of Buffy and then now there's gonna be a new one and--"

"Uh, Red?" Spike interrupted. Willow stopped talking and looked at him patiently, waiting for him to say something. He gave her a smile, but it wasn't a very kind one. "Don't care."

Willow's mouth worked soundlessly.

"Oh, um . . . Sorry about your friend's death," Kathryn said, stepping forward with an uneasy smile.

"It's okay," Willow said, glaring at Spike briefly before turning to face Kathryn. "But it's just a bit of a, well, a nuisance, 'cause now there's gonna be a new slayer and Buffy always kinda gets into a little, well, bad mood-y time whenever that happens. Giles is all upset too because he thinks they might send her here, you know, it being the Hellmouth and all, and then there'll be another watcher and he's afraid they'll try to do the whole Wesley thing again--try to claim like dominancy over Buffy--you know how men are--and it's this big whole--"

"Uh, Red, Kathryn is one of the sane people. You know, the type who don't believe in that sort of fantasy bullocks. Like me. You know, with the non-believing."

Willow's eyes widened, and then she looked between Kathryn and Spike. "Oh! Right! I just thought 'cause your brother . . . So, you don't believe in Slayers and stuff. That's . . . neat . . . neither does, um, Spike." Willow smiled a bit too widely for Kathryn's taste. "Anyway, we have to take Spike back home, 'cause . . . um . . . Of a thing, you know." She chuckled nervously.

"I'm the one that unchained him from the tub. Which, by the way, you really shouldn't do." Kathryn folded her arms and pursed her lips, trying to look serious.

Willow nodded. "Okay. Come on, Spike, let's uh . . . go and stuff."

Spike rolled his eyes and walked forward, tripping over the backpack that he had tossed on the floor sometime before she'd come into her room. He stumbled and swore loudly, kicking it aside. "Sodding, stupid, bleeding--" he grumbled, disentangling his foot from the strap, and letting out a growl or frustration.

His attempts to break free made most of the contents of her bag fall out and scatter along the floor, including her math and history book. Spike stepped on one of the books and it slid along her floor slightly and caused him to fall over backwards, paper shooting up into the air and pencils snapping underneath his weight.

Willow was sniggering into her palm, and Kathryn made to move forward to see if he was all right but when she saw his flushed face and he yelled out a guttural "Bloody hell!" she couldn't help but start laughing. Unlike Willow, Kathryn didn't try to hide it.

Spike angrily stood up and kicked her backpack across the room, so that it smacked against the wall. He turned to both of them. "Fine, have a go, laugh at Spike! Ooh, it's so bloody hilarious!"

Willow actually turned away and giggled louder, but Kathryn finally slowed to a stop. "Sorry," she said through a grin.

Spike just sneered at her and scuffed the carpet with the toe of his Doc Martins.

"Come on, Spike, let's help her pick up the mess before we go," Willow said, bending over and grabbing a few crumpled and torn papers.

She picked up a piece of paper with math equations written down on it, and Kathryn ran over to her, seeing the curved, jagged tear through it, and how the paper was crumpled so badly she couldn't read the half of the problems she'd done.

"Dammit," Kathryn whispered, then tossing it to the ground. "That was my assignment! I had half of it done!"

"Not so funny now, is it?" Spike said haughtily, with a sniff.

"Oh, this is just algebra, this is easy," Willow said, apparently recognizing some of the symbols when she looked down at the torn paper.

"Speak for yourself," she muttered.

"Well, I mean--for taking care of Spike--"

"I don't need taking care of!"

"I'll help you. Teach ya," she said, her face glowing suddenly, and Kathryn got the feeling that she would be offended if Kathryn turned her down. Not that she would--any extra help on math was much appreciated.

Kathryn smiled. "Really? You would? That would really help, then I could work on the history stuff."

"History? Whaddaya mean?" Spike asked.

"Oh, you know, some stupid essay."

"I'm good at history. I'll do it if you pay me," he said, perking up instantly, and smiling. "How much you got?"

"Spike, don't," Willow warned.

Kathryn considered. "I'll give you ten."

"Twenty."

"Fifteen," Kathryn amended.

Spike reached forward and grabbed her hand, shaking it. "Twenty it is," he said with a grin.

"I said fif--"

"Twenty, or sod it." He held onto her hand and gave her a stern look.

She held onto his hand just as tightly, and stared into his eyes. Something about them seemed so . . . predatory, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stick up. She felt the strong urge to jerk away from him, or punch him. She felt a small little head rush again, similar to the one she felt while taking out the garbage.

She shook the dizziness out of her head and sighed. "Fine. Twenty bucks."

He shook her hand. "Deal."

* * *

Kathryn had to admit, Willow was a huge help. Normally when she asked someone for help, she felt like a complete idiot, or at least a bit guilty or awkward about it, like when someone offered to buy her something--she wanted it, but at the same time, didn't want to be a moocher. But Willow's eyes were alight and her grin was unmistakeable. It obviously pleased her, helping Kathryn with her homework, and so she didn't feel in the least bit strange.

Willow and Kathryn were relaxing on Kathryn's bed, looking over the textbook and scribbling down on the piece of paper. She was using her notebook as a makeshift table so she could write.

Every now and then she would glance up and see Spike plucking away at the keys, using only his left index finger. She was glad he was helping her (even if he wasn't as kind as Willow and she'd had to pay him) but she still felt uneasy, although se really had no reason to. There was something oddly familiar about him . . . Something that made the back of her mind swirl with thought, but she couldn't figure out why.

After her and Willow finished with the assignment (with much more understanding since Willow had helped) they lounged back on her bed and watched Spike hunt and peck, bopping his head ever so slightly to some tune he had stuck in his head, apparently. Kathryn could hear him humming slightly, but she couldn't make out the song because he was so quiet about it.

"Ready to go, Spike?" Willow called.

"Thought we were waitin' for Her Gloriousness to arrive? Think she'd be happy about havin' you walk me? Nah, she prob'ly wants to handle me herself--she looks for any excuse to get her hands on me." He then gestured at the computer. "'Sides, not finished with this yet. Bloody hell, got any smokes?" The last part was said towards Kathryn, and he looked away from the screen to regard her.

"No. No one in my family smokes."

"In that case, get me a beer, would you?" he said, turning back to the screen.

"Okay." Kathryn got up and started over to the door. Willow started coming with her.

"Oi, Red, come here a sec," Spike said.

"But I was--"

"Need your help," Spike insisted, giving her a look.

Willow sighed, then walked over to him as Kathryn left the room. Kathryn hurried down the steps and into the kitchen. She saw Kyle sitting at the table, holding his head in his hands. Kathryn walked on by and opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

"You're not giving that to him," Kyle snapped.

"Willow wanted it," Kathryn lied, only because she wasn't in the mood to argue with her brother at the moment. Whether or not Kyle believed her she didn't know, but he just waved her away and turned back to his own beer.

Kathryn hurried back up the stairs and opened the door. They were in mid conversation and so they didn't hear her come in and kept talking. Kathryn would have announced her presence, but she heard her name and shut her mouth.

". . . hit me an' it hurt. I bleedin' stumbled, Red. Fell over. Look at my lip! Her brother got me hard, barely even made a mark, but her? An' she had never hit anyone." Willow was about to speak, but Spike talked over her. "Didn't you luv? Hit me hard, yeah?"

She cleared her throat and Willow turned around sharply and saw her, then smiled in the way people smiled when they had just been talking about someone who just walked into the conversation.

"Saw your reflection in the computer screen," he added as an explanation, although she hadn't really cared how he'd known she was there.

"Well you hit my brother. It was instinct," she told him, figuring that must have been the real reason anyway.

She stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else, then she walked over to him and handed him the beer. He leaned back in his chair, right arm behind his head, while he used his left hand to hold the beer. He looked at the computer screen for a minute, then opened the bottle.

"Well I got it finished. You might wanna look through, put a bit of your voice in it, I don't know."

"Thanks. Really."

He got out of the computer chair and went over to the bed, sitting on it. "I'm a bit of a history person." He shrugged it off and started drinking out of the bottle.

"So, uh . . . What, are we just gonna hang out or what? 'Til Buffy shows up?" Willow inquired, shifting uncomfortably. "'Cause . . . I was just wonderin'."

"Actually, you know . . . I was gettin' a bit homesick anyway," Spike muttered, standing up off of the bed. He nodded at Kathryn. "Thanks for the money, luv. Best be headin' off, though."

She smiled tentatively at them. "Okay. Sorry about my brother and all this . . . demon stuff."

"Don't worry. S'not like I've never been hit before."

* * *

A/N--I tried really hard to capture what it would be like to have a brother who was obsessed with demon. Logically, it makes sense he would freak out over a guy being at her house at night, and Angel is a common name. I jsut wanted to get the story out and explain early on, so as to avoid confusion on the subject, and also so people didn't start wondering if Angel (our Angel) had somehow attended her school.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time her history teacher gave everyone their essays back, she had forgotten nearly all about Spike. She had done as he suggested and went through it, making a few grammar corrections and re-spelling some of the words. Being British, he had spelled some words differently (usually he'd added an extra U or switched an R and an E around) and she knew that she'd be caught for cheating had she not changed them. He had a surprising amount of knowledge; he'd put down things she didn't remember reading anywhere out of the text or off of the internet, and he somehow managed to segue into a few jokes about Hitler. But other than that, nearly as soon as he left she stopped thinking about him. As much as she didn't understand why and didn't really like to admit it, she was glad when he left, despite the fact he'd helped her.

However, when she saw that she had a perfect score on her essay, she felt a little guilty because (judging by the looks on the other students' faces) she was the only one with a score she was happy with. She had never asked someone to do her homework before. She had asked for help (rarely--sometimes she'd rather get a lower score than ask for help) but she'd never paid someone to do her work for her. She made herself feel better by telling herself that she had tried to write the essay several times, and that she had gone over his work and made some changes.

She didn't know what she was happier about; the essay grade, or the fact she hadn't seen Spike or any of Kyle's demon-believing friends (Spike didn't count as either, seeing as he wasn't his friend nor was he a believer.)

Her teacher had talked to her after class, inquiring after her knowledge, and she simply said she knew an older guy who was alive during the war, and had asked him some things. Her teacher believed her and excused her to go to her next class.

"I'm really impressed with this," her father said, looking over her essay. "I mean, I would have bombed the thing. But this is really good. I'm glad you put some work into this."

"Yeah," she said, smiling at him.

Her and Kyle shared a look, but said nothing. Kyle had kept his mouth shut about the entire Spike thing. Kathryn didn't blame him--her father believed in demons and other such nonsense about as much as she did. If he found out Kyle had made a fool of himself in front of another innocent guy, he wouldn't have been very happy.

But that didn't stop Kyle nagging on her for having a bloodsucking fiend do her essay for her a few hours later, when their father was at work.

"Do you know why they call him Spike?"

"The same reason they call Henry Jones 'Indiana' I imagine," she said dully, walking into the living room with Kyle following closely.

"He wasn't named after a dog, you idiot!" her brother snapped, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to turn around and face him

She pulled her shoulder out of his grasp and glared at him. "Don't do that," she ordered threateningly.

"He's known as Spike because he tortured his victims with railroad spikes! Don't you get it?" Kathryn sighed and continued walking until she made it to the ouch, plopping down on it. "Aren't you even listening to me?"

"Don't you have to go to work?" she snapped.

He looked at her as if she were stupid. "No, I'm running around in my uniform for no reason."

She rolled her eyes.

"Listen to me, Kathryn--chip or not, that guy is not someone you should be getting involved with!" She picked up the remote and went to turn on the television, blatantly ignoring him. Kyle took it from her before she could even get the power on and tossed it aside. "Just listen to me."

"He's not even here. It's been days since we saw him. I don't see why we can't just drop it, okay? I had him write my essay because I just couldn't get it to work. He offered, and I accepted. The only one here bringing him up is you."

"He ran with Angelus. He was part of his crowd."

"Spike hates Angel, I doubt he was part of his delusional crowd. Angel used to live here--you know that. That's why we moved here for God's sake. If he's running around with a 'soul-having vampire on a never-ending quest for redemption' why the hell should I care? Obviously he's a good guy then." He would have been deaf not to hear the sarcasm dripping off of her description of Angel.

"Just stay away from him!" Kyle suddenly shouted, causing Kathryn to jump.

"Fine! God! I didn't even like him anyway! You didn't see me swapping phone numbers with him, did you?" She bent over and grabbed the remote that he had tossed.

"Well good. I'm off to work--if you go anywhere, try to be home before dark."

Kathryn barely suppressed a scowl. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Kathryn didn't mind that her father and brother both worked at night. It was nice because she could have the house to herself. It hadn't always been like that--after her mother died, for years her father wouldn't leave her alone, not even for a second. He picked her up and drove her to school, and she was never allowed to be over at other people's houses. Kathryn could understand her father's concern and she didn't blame him for it--he'd come home to find his wife and daughter lying lifeless in their own blood, and burglars attempting to kill Kathryn and Kyle. He had even moved to LA where Kathryn's aunt lived, so that when he went to work she could watch them.

By the time she was ten and Kyle was fifteen, he'd decided that Kyle could watch Kathryn and he'd stopped being so protective over her, and then when Kyle got a job, she was allowed to be alone. Growing up, she had resented her father and brother and aunt for constantly watching over her and never letting her be. She had always wanted to be independent and wanted to take care of herself, but now that she was older she completely understood why he had done it. Still, she was glad that he trusted her enough to leave her alone, now.

It wasn't that she didn't want friends. Of course she wanted friends. She didn't want to be alone. It was more like she didn't want to be constantly watched over by her brother. She had been the first person Kyle had talked to about demons and for some reason, he'd been insistent on her believing it more so than anyone else. He'd never told their aunt, and even though he'd talked to his father about his beliefs, he'd never been as open about it to anyone but her--with the exception of his fellow believers on the internet.

Kathryn had always felt like her brother resented her for not believing him, and even though she loved her brother, a part of her hated him for the same reason. Growing up, he'd always made sure she'd wear cross necklaces, or she'd see him whittling stakes, or bringing home holy water. And she knew that he kept holy water with him in his jacket, not to mention a stake in his car and in random places throughout the house. Even after her father had given her independence, Kyle never allowed her to go over to other's houses, and he refused to let her go anywhere when it was nearing dark. Not that she was particularly keen about walking around in the dark, but it was to the point she had never spent the night at someone else's house, because Kyle didn't want her going to their house lest they 'invite' someone in. And even when Kathryn managed to make friends, she never invited them over to the house after the Angel incident, in fear he would embarrass her.

In short, she blamed her brother for her not having friends. She also blamed him for a lot of things that logically couldn't be his fault, but she managed to find a way to blame him anyway.

But when he was gone, she felt some sort of peace. Like it was some sort of rebellion against her brother--the fact she could do anything if she wanted, and he wouldn't know about it. Of course she never really did anything rebellious--but it was more of the fact she could, if she wanted. Maybe she would make a friend soon and invite her (or him) over when Kyle was gone. Her father wouldn't care about it, but her brother would, and that was what would make it sweet--that her dad would allow her to do it so she wouldn't be doing anything wrong but Kyle would be furious if he found out.

She added that to her ever-growing mental list of things to do, right beside doing her math homework for the next day, which she knew she wasn't going to do until she was nearly unconscious from sleep deprivation.

She heard a few knocks on the door and jumped at the suddenness of the sound. She got off of the couch and went over to the door, opening it.

"Er . . . Hey, Spike," she greeted awkwardly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but . . . What are you doing here?"

He raised both of his wrists and shook them. "No shackles. Free to do as I please." He dropped his hands and cocked his scarred eyebrow a bit.

"And you decided to come here?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Don't really know. Suppose I had nothin' better to do."

"Thanks for that. I'm glad I'm the last resort."

"No, I believe a hooker in a cheap motel room is the last resort."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled playfully. "So now you're comparing me to a hooker? God, you're just spoutin' off the compliments today, aren't you?" He just chuckled and she stepped back, opening the door wider.

"Is that an invite?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh right, I forgot. You're a vampire, and you need an invitation to come in."

With a smirk, he stepped over the threshold and right in front of her. "For the record, luv . . ." He grabbed the door from behind him, keeping his eyes focused directly on hers, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chair, but she wasn't quite sure if it was from nervousness or something else. The door slammed shut and he looked her over. ". . . vampires only need an invite once."

In an attempt to try and show off that she wasn't nervous at all, she smiled at him, tilting her head up. "Well I suppose that means you can just come on in and snack on me when I sleep, then."

"Don't tempt me," he said in a low voice, and she would have to be deaf not to catch the flirtatious tone.

She cleared her throat and turned away from him, somewhat flattered that he would flirt with her, but for some reason, a little anxious. She had never felt comfortable with people flirting with her--not since her brother decided to embarrass her in front of Angel. And even then, being flirted with made her sort of antsy--but it had never felt like that. For some reason, it felt wrong, like she had accepted cocaine from him.

"So why'd you drop by, for real? Just wanted to hang out or something?"

"I s'pose there's that."

She turned around and saw him standing behind her, hands in the pockets of his leather duster. "You suppose there's that?"

Spike sighed. "Yeah."

She furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means . . . I really have no idea why I'm here. I was headin' to the Bronze, walked by the house, decided to say hello."

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. He was looking at the floor at the moment, but she could tell he was pursing his lips. By all appearances, it looked like he was just looking at his shoes, since he was scuffing the carpet with them and tilting his head back at forth, but she had a feeling that he was just avoiding looking at her when he said it.

"Oh. Well . . . hello, then," she said, unsure of what else to say.

Kathryn didn't really like Spike. Even though she didn't really know him, for some reason, she just didn't like him--although he hadn't really given her any reason not to. It wasn't the first time in her life she'd gotten a bad feeling about someone--sometimes when she was at the store, or walking by someone late at night, she would get this surge of strong dislike, almost like they had wronged her in the past although she had no recollection of it--like an old enemy that she had fought with for so long she couldn't quite remember what they were fighting about or why they hated each other, yet she had never met any of them before in her life. It had never bothered her before because she had never seen any of them again, and they had never tried to talk with her or get along with her as Spike had, and was. It was normal for people to get impressions of others quickly; the mind makes a first impression about someone within the first ten seconds of meeting said person. That wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was that he'd never done anything wrong, and so she felt guilty.

He chuckled lightly and glanced up at her, back to his usual self, head tilted back, hands in his pockets of his duster. "Yeah, well . . . Hello back at ya. So what are we gonna do?"

"Actually . . . You know, I'm not really supposed to be hanging out with you."

"'Cause I'm a vampire," he stated with a nod. He kept his face blank for a second, then a slow grin crept across his features.

Kathryn started laughing, and he chuckled along with her.

"I don't know, Spike. Whaddaya wanna do?"

"Bronze sound nice?" he asked

"Long as it isn't the Fish Tank. My brother's the bartender there," she informed casually and stepped closer to him. He smirked and looked her over with a very appreciative glint in his eyes. The man didn't give a damn about subtlety did he? "So, uh, lemme go get dressed, and I'll be right down."

"Take your time, luv," he said and nodded at her while she walked past him.

There. She was going to do something about her stupid first impression. She was sure that after that night at the Bronze, she would get over her ridiculous prejudice against Spike. After all, he was a living, breathing human, just like everyone else on the planet.

* * *

To be honest, Spike didn't really even know why he gave a damn about her. Really, he didn't. First of all, it was bloody obvious she was a slayer. Second of all, he got the distinct impression she didn't like him very much--which he was sure had something to do with his first point. And third, she could hit hard. So what could possibly be going on through his head to make him even want to go near her?

Simple: Spike was an irrational stupid bloody vampire who had apparently not learned to use his brain. Why did he got to the precious Scoobs for help? Why did he think Drusilla could ever love him more than her precious sodding pouf of a sire?

There might have been the extra bonus of her not know who the hell he was.

She didn't stare at him like he was William the Bloody, the slayer of slayers, the sidekick of the nancy-boy Angelus. She didn't stare at him like the sycophantic minions (and Harmony) who he had surrounded himself with to do his bidding. She didn't stare at him with vacant eyes, proclaiming to love him when he knew if he looked hard enough, she wasn't looking vacant but looking through him at someone she would never stop loving. And she certainly didn't stare at him like he was scum on the bottom of her shoe like certain other slayers and her little gang of Scoobs.

She looked at him like he was just another guy.

And for some reason, he liked it. Hell, he didn't even mind the fact that she apparently didn't want to shag him senseless. Which he, of course, blamed on the fact she was a slayer. How else would she be able to restrain herself? Well, unless she were a lesbian.

Now there's a thought . . .

He shook his head. He doubted that. She'd mentioned she flirted with that Angel chap (not the pouf) and so obviously she wasn't gay.

Slayer, then.

A slayer who took an absurd amount of time changing her clothes, apparently. Actually, Spike had to correct himself--he had absolutely no idea what an absurd amount of time was. Drusilla would go to town in a slip shoeless if he didn't manage to prevent it.

He hadn't thought she looked too horrible. Well, she hadn't been wearing makeup, but she looked fine without it. Plain, but fine. And she had been wearing grey sweats with a black t-shirt that was obviously too big for her, and her hair had been a right mess. Curse of the curly hair, that one he knew well.

He heard her coming down the steps and he turned around to watch her walk down them. She hurried walked down the steps, her breasts bouncing lightly. They weren't' the best pair of breasts he'd seen--Harmony's had been rather supple, hadn't they?--but he wouldn't mind taking a bite into them.

It had been a bit longer than Spike liked since he last got himself laid.

Although he could tell she'd just quickly ran her hair underwater and used some sort of hair product to crimp it, he didn't think it look bad. He thought it looked rather nice. She was wearing a flattering pair of jeans and a low-cut V-necked dark green shirt. He wasn't an expert on makeup, but whatever she'd done, it made her dark brown eyes stick out more.

Hell, he hadn't even realized her eyes were brown until then.

"Sorry it took so long. Couldn't find my damn mascara," she announced when she hopped off the last step.

"Let's be off then." he jerked his head towards the door, and she followed him out.

Walking with her was pleasant. It took her awhile to start talking to him, but at least she didn't criticize everything he said. She accepted what he said at face value, and actually had a conversation. It wasn't about demeaning him, or reminding him at every turn he was a vampire, or about insulting him. She just . . . talked. A part of him regretted telling Willow that he suspected she was a slayer, because a part of him wanted that to stay a secret as long as possible, and he knew she was going to tell Buffy and Giles. The longer she remained unaware of the fact she was a slayer, the longer she wouldn't believe in demons, which meant she wouldn't piece together that he was a vampire. And as long as she didn't know he was a vampire, he wouldn't have to deal with nasty glares and snide comments.

Spike wasn't stupid. He knew that eventually she would figure it all out. But the object of his little game was to keep her from finding out for a long time. Sooner or later she would realize he was a conniving, lying prat using the situation to suit his own needs, but preferably it would be later. And until then, he was going to enjoy having the blissfully unaware girl to talk to.

As they neared the Bronze, he could hear the faint music playing and the bass filling the air. Stepping into it, though, was like stepping into another world--one that he would have been ecstatic to prowl through back before the blasted chip. Now it was like dangling a toy in front of a playful kitten, and jerking it away so that he could never paw at it. He could smell and nearly taste the sweet blood pumping throughout the lustful teens, and he could never actually bite into any of them. However the music blared obnoxiously loud and he could steal beer off of the unaccompanied tables, and so he didn't mind being there. In fact, he didn't mind being anywhere as long as it didn't involve any combination of shackles, ropes, chairs, and porcelain without any kinky rewards.

Kathryn was busy pretending not to notice that he had stolen two bottles of beer from of a table where the occupants were currently not residing, and he just chuckled. He knew that she had seen him do it because she glanced at him and smirked when she quickly looked away.

"Where we sittin' luv?" he asked.

She took him to the first empty table and sat. He sat across from her and handed her the beer after opening it for her.

"I don't like beer," she stated.

"Fine then, more for me. Got some cash, what would you like? Apple martini?" he suggested with a mocking smirk.

"Um . . . You think they have like a smooth whiskey?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "What? It's not like I've ever ordered alcohol from here before. I just know I like whiskey."

"All right, just makin' sure." He looked around and caught the eye of the waitress, smiling a bit flirtatiously and beckoning her with his finger. She completely changed directions to come and take his order. God, women were sometimes so predictable.

After he ordered the whiskey and gave her an extra flirtatious smile just for sport, he turned back to Kathryn. "Where'd you get the cash from?" she asked casually--a bit too casually.

"Don't ask, don't tell."

"You steal it from Rupert?"

"Like I said, don't ask, don't--" A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he'd recognize that grip anywhere. It wasn't like he'd never felt it before. On the contrary, in fact. "Buffy," he greeted tersely.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" she asked in a clipped tone.

He jerked his shoulder out of his grasp. "Last I checked, it wasn't any of your business."

"Excuse me?"

"He's with me. We're just hanging out," Kathryn informed politely--almost too politely--and Spike had the feeling she was just trying to prevent Buffy from getting angry. Which was actually a lost cause because the little bitch had it in her head that she owned everybody and somehow had the right to tell everyone what to do and that she was bloody perfect.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

Kathryn looked past Spike and at Buffy, with an affronted expression on her face. Spike watched Kathryn size Buffy up. "Kathryn. And you're Buffy. Spike's told me about you."

"Oh, well, that's all well and good, but Spike isn't supposed to be--"

"Sod off, Buffy, I can do what I please. I'm not doin' anythin' wrong talkin' to Kathryn here, and you're not gonna stop me, and last I checked, you weren't her bloody mother so don't even think about tellin' her what to do either. You might got you delusional bloody Scoobs followin' your every word, but that don't work on the sane like me an' her," Spike snapped, looking up at her with a meaningful look, hoping she'd catch on to the fact that Kathryn didn't believe in demons.

"The only one here that's delusional is you, Spike," Buffy snapped, grabbing his arm and hoisting him out of his chair.

"Hey, now that's enough," Kathryn said, standing up out of the chair.

Buffy stopped attempting to pull Spike away and looked Kathryn over. "Look, Kathryn, you don't understand the full picture here. I don't know what Spike told you, but--"

"He told me all about your stupid belief in demons, and I think it's time you leave him alone. Just because he doesn't believe in that crap doesn't mean you've gotta treat him like that. Last I checked, it's not really his fault your psycho, delusional ex left you for Drusilla."

Spike felt Buffy's grip around his arm tighten. It wasn't Kathryn's fault, really. She had no idea about the existence of vampires, and he had left a few important details out of the entire situation with Drusilla and Angelus. Spike would have cared, but he was a soulless vampire and so the proceedings didn't interest him in the slightest.

"You need to shut up about things you don't understand," Buffy threatened coolly.

"Who the hell died and made you God? I mean, he has a right to enjoy himself as much as anyone else! What has he ever done to you? Besides not believe in your stupid little fantasy world."

"You seem like a really nice girl and everything, but really, shut up."

"What is he gonna do if you leave him here? How does it hurt you? I mean, really, how?"

"Look, the fact is, I'm taking Spike, and you're not going to stop me."

For a second, Spike thought that Kathryn was going to attack Buffy. Her fists clenched and there was a dangerous flash in her eyes--one Spike knew all too well. He had killed two slayers, and fought Buffy more than enough times, so of course he recognized it.

Spike would have paid to see them beat the crap out of each other. Granted, he knew Buffy would win and the fight probably wouldn't take very long--Kathryn hadn't had any training--but still, it would have been worth it to see a non-demon hit her upside the face.

But she didn't.

She just let out a sigh and shook her head. "You know, I hate this." Her voice almost cracked, but her eyes weren't watering. "I have you people telling me what to do, how to live, who I can be friends with--and I'm not even a part of you. I have nothing against it, I really don't, but . . . but you're ruining my life. Honestly? How does Spike talking to me hurt anybody?"

Spike looked at Buffy and saw her face melt from angry to concern. Oh, God. Was this gonna turn into a Hallmark moment? Bloody hell.

"Kathryn, there's a lot about this you don't understand."

"I don't wanna be preached to," she snapped. "I'm just sick of . . . all of it. Demons, vampires . . . You guys don't even realize what you're doing. Why is it that every time I actually start making a friend you demon guys have to do this?" Buffy looked about ready to talk, but Kathryn lifted up her hands. "I'm done. You know, just screw it. Really. I'm just . . . I'm just done." She turned around and walked off.

Buffy turned to spike. "What did she mean?" she demanded. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. I swear. It was her brother. He beat up a classmate of hers 'cause his name was Angel. Plus, you know, what happened with me and her brother."

"Huh?"

"Didn't Willow tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

* * *

Kathryn was angry. Why was it that every single time she was enjoying herself, that demon stuff had to pop up and ruin it for her? Normally it was her brother that ruined things. But now, it had somehow managed to ruin her evening with Spike through someone else. No matter what, somehow, it would always come barging into her life and destroy every damn thing in it. Even before the whole Angel situation, Kyle had managed to put a damper on a lot of things. She would have a friend over, and he would ask irritating questions, or try to get them to listen to his demon stories, and after a few annoying times, they wouldn't want to hang out with Kathryn anymore, or at least not at her house.

No being out of the house after dark, and in the winter that was frustrating because it got dark earlier, but in the summer it wasn't too bad--although that meant that, even at the age of eighteen, she had to be in the house before ten at night. Of course she rarely did anything her brother said, so it didn't matter anyway, but it was the principle of the thing--the fact he expected her to live in a shell because of his stupid fantasies. Whenever it was necessary for her to be out past dark, he expected her to carry a cross and a stake. Of course she never did, but it was annoying and embarrassing to know that he always had one with him.

And now, she couldn't even make a new friend without someone jerking him away. And this time, it wasn't even her brother, but some stupid idiot girl who thought she was some sort of chosen one that was meant to hunt vampires and the like. Who the hell did she think she was, telling Kathryn what she could and couldn't do?

She kicked open the door that led into the back alley and stepped out of the overheated Bronze.

She saw two people making out up against the wall. The girl was making high pitched little moans and the guy was grunting, and so she wondered if they were doing a little more than that. She was going to calmly walk back into the Bronze, but the door she had kicked open slammed shut a bit louder than she had expected and the guy stopped making out and pulled away from the girl.

"Sorry," Kathryn said hastily.

He turned around, and the first thing she noticed was that the girl hadn't been whimpering and moaning out of pleasure, but she had been crying, and the guy was holding his hand over her mouth. The second thing she noticed was that blood was smeared across his mouth, and dripping down the side of her neck. And the final thing she noticed was that his face was . . . strange. His eyes were yellow and his brows were bunched together and thick.

The girl looked at Kathryn and started screaming louder, crying, trying to break free, but the guy had too strong of a hold on her.

And Kathryn did what first came to her mind--she ran over to him and gave him one hell of a right hook to the face.

The deformed man--Kathryn refused to call him a vampire--fell to the ground. She grabbed the poor girl's hand and started running down the alley, nearly dragging the girl behind her.

"Hurry up! Come one! Run!" she shouted.

"He was biting me! His face--did you see his face?" the girl cried.

Kathryn glanced back at her and saw that the girl was using her free hand to hold her bloody neck. "Come on, we've gotta get to the hospital," she ordered.

Fear was pumping through her, her heart thumping hard in her chest. What the hell had that been?

She stopped rather suddenly. So suddenly in fact that her legs kept running and so she felt the ground disappear from underneath her. The girl kept running, still holding onto her hand, and turned around to see why Kathryn had stopped, and Kathryn realized around the same time the injured girl did that the deformed man had wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her back. The girl tugged on Kathryn's' arm.

"Run, idiot!" Kathryn screamed.

The girl scampered away, sobbing, just as Kathryn elbowed the guy in the side as hard as she could.

He let her go and she turned around to see him growling. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. With his other hand he grabbed the back of her hair and forcibly tilted her head. With Kathryn's free hand she tried punching him in the chest while she screamed, looking at the fangs in his mouth.

And he suddenly turned to dust.

Kathryn stumbled back, heart thumping so hard her whole body vibrated. She could feel wetness on her cheeks, and her throat felt raw--how loudly had she been screaming?

Buffy was standing behind the vampire with a stake in her hand.

"You threw a nice punch there," Buffy said conversationally.

Her eyes went to Spike, who was standing behind Buffy with a glass of whiskey in his hand. She looked at Buffy again. "That--that was a vampire?" she managed weakly.

"Yup."

"Was it? Bloody hell, you mean they're real?" Spike exclaimed, looking between Buffy and Kathryn, eyes wide.

Buffy sighed and looked back at Spike briefly. "Yeah."

Kathryn felt shaky. Her knees were wobbling and it felt like her skin was moving across her bones. Her stomach churned as her head spun. If this had been a movie, she was sure that she would have fainted, but as this was reality, she didn't, although she would have preferred fainting rather than have to feel the too real and exaggerated feelings coursing through her at the moment.

Buffy sighed and lowered the stake. "Kathryn, um . . . we need to have a talk."


	5. Chapter 5

Spike honestly felt bad for her. And he knew he was going to get a smack or two off of Buffy because he acted like vampires being real was news to him. But he didn't care. "Here you go, luv," he said, handing over the glass of whiskey that she'd ordered before Buffy interrupted their little hang-out session.

Kathryn looked down at it in confusion, and then he saw comprehension light up in her eyes. Like him, it seemed she'd forgotten about ordering the drink. The waitress had come right in the middle of Spike telling Buffy about how her brother had attacked him, and how Kathryn had punched him and he'd fallen over. Spike didn't know why he'd told her that, but he figured that she would have figured it out sooner or later anyway. Willow hadn't been home much lately, according to Buffy, and so he figured she would say something when they met up, and it might give him some brownie points if he told her what happened.

Kathryn drank the whiskey then held the empty cup in her hand awkwardly. She looked around for a minute, then handed it back to Spike. He tossed it over his shoulder and listened to it break. Buffy and Kathryn gave him a look, and he shrugged. "What?"

They walked, Buffy leading the way, and Spike recognized the path well enough to know they were heading towards Giles's. He scowled, not much wanting to go there, but figuring that was as good a place as any other. Besides, where else was he gonna stay? With the whelp? Not bloody likely. Giles was a bit more lenient when it came to the chaining him up stuff. He only did that when Giles wasn't going to be home. Other than that, he did seem to care if Spike was wandering around or not, not that he should seeing as it wasn't like he could hurt anyone anyway. Well, except demons, of course. But Xander kept Spike tied to a chair, even if he was home.

Kathryn lagged behind a bit, so that she was walking beside Spike. "Did you really know about vampires and stuff, Spike? I mean, did you know they were real?"

Spike noticed that Buffy glanced back at them, and he knew she could hear them.

He sighed. If he didn't tell her now, he knew Buffy was going to rat him out. "Yeah, I did."

"That's why you went to them, huh? You said you had a problem and they were the only ones you could go to."

"Yeah," he revealed quietly, looking down at the ground and stuffing his hands in his duster pockets. "You gotta understand that . . . I knew you didn't believe in that, and if I told you I did, you'd think I was some poor sod without a brain. I didn't want that."

"So . . . Why did they chain you to the tub, then?"

"They don't trust me, I s'pose. They think I might nick stuff or somethin'. To be honest, I don't really know."

She paused for a second, then stepped closer to him. "Are they gonna chain me up, too?"

Spike chuckled a little bit and shook his head. "Nah, they wouldn't do that."

She nodded, and kept quiet the rest of the walk, although he noticed she opened her mouth to speak but would close it and shake her head every time. He halfway wondered what she'd wanted to say, but he figured there was a reason she wouldn't say it, so he kept his mouth shut.

He only hoped nobody blabbed about him being a vampire, because he didn't know if he could take another person staring at him the way the Scoobs did.

* * *

Kathryn was afraid. She wasn't ashamed to admit it. Her skin crawled and her heart thudded twice as fast and hard against her ribs. Her whole body shook. She figured that was a normal reaction to having been attacked and nearly killed by a vampire. She briefly wondered if that girl made it to the hospital or at least got help from someone else. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have a vampire bite her.

Except, she had been bitten. It had been so long ago she didn't even remember it, but it had happened. She had the scars to prove it. Her brother had been right all along--the people who had killed her mother and sister hadn't been two psycho humans, but two vampires. Her father had knocked the girl off of her just as she had bit into Kathryn's neck.

The fact that vampires and demons were real made her nauseous. She had spent the better part of her life yelling at her brother for believing in it, calling it a fantasy, calling it nonsense, and all along, it had been real.

And why did Buffy need to talk to her? Why did they have to go somewhere privately? Although Spike told her that they wouldn't tie her up or chain her or whatever, how did he know? They'd chained him up, who was to say that they wouldn't do the same to her? Couldn't Buffy just take her home? She knew it was all real--what more did Buffy want from her?

When they made it to Rupert's house, she groaned. All signs pointed to being chained up. Lovely.

They walked in and Kathryn swallowed a lump in her throat, and tried to ignore the chill that went down her spine and caused her to get goosebumps.

"Giles!" Buffy called.

Kathryn remembered that Rupert's last name was Giles. The man she could only assume was Rupert came out of a hallway near the kitchen. He looked a bit older than her father and he wore glasses, but he was a rather unassuming-looking man. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Um, I'm Kathryn Daltry."

Rupert furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Would you be Kyle Daltry's sister, then?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. So you picked up the book, I take it? Your brother said that you had and that you'd also, ah . . ." His eyes travelled over to Spike. ". . . unchained Spike."

"Um . . . Yeah."

"And she didn't believe in vampires and demons and stuff," Buffy told him. "But, um . . . She was just attacked by one. Don't worry, I staked him."

"And you brought her here?" he asked, sounding a bit incredulous. "Buffy, perhaps you've forgotten because of your, ah . . . friends, but your identity is supposed to be rather, er . . . secret."

"It's a bit more than that. Um . . . Kathryn is a slayer," Buffy said.

Kathryn's knees gave out underneath her for some reason, and it felt like a wave crashed into her. Spike grabbed her and righted her posture, so that she didn't fall. He held her steady and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers, and she swayed a bit, feeling dizzy.

"No," she whined a little, and she felt tears prickle up.

"Do you . . . Do you know what a slayer is?" Rupert asked gently, walking towards her.

She nodded and Spike let go of her arms, and walked away from her, finding the counter separating the living room from the kitchen suddenly interesting. Kathryn realized that he must have known she was a slayer, and that was probably the only reason he'd talked to her. It didn't bother her, really, but she could understand why Spike would assume it would.

Mostly, she just felt like someone had told her she had six months to live. Although her legs felt like Jell-O, she managed to go over to a chair Rupert had and sit in it, holding her head in her hands. She wished she could say she didn't believe them, but seeing as a vampire had just tried to kill her and Buffy had staked him right in front of her, their existence couldn't be ignored. The fact that she had punched Spike hard enough to make him fall when her brother hadn't even managed to make him flinch made it pretty obvious as to who she was as well.

"Kyle told me what one was a long time ago," she told them when she realized they were waiting for her to say something. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel some tears sliding down her cheeks slowly. "He, um . . . He talked about them a lot."

She couldn't bear to look at any of them, so she remained staring at the back of her palms.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Kathryn sighed, and she realized her sigh caught in her breath and shook with her tears. "But I haven't . . . shouldn't they have known this years ago? Trained me or something? It's not like I haven't been attacked before, Rupert. I'm sure my brother told you that."

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Rupert's face. He squeezed her shoulder gently. "It's . . . uncommon, but there have been several slayers who weren't found out until they were called. Buffy, for instance, is one of them. It's a difficult process, finding the Potentials. There are hundreds of girls who could possibly be a slayer some day, and most of them never do become a slayer. The Council has missed girls before."

She nodded slowly, understanding why she would be missed. She hadn't been particularly slayer-like. She'd never gotten into a fight with a normal human, not to mention because of her over-protective brother, she'd rarely gone outside after dark to meet up with a vampire on her own.

"The vampire who attacked you when you were young must have known who you were--they can taste the slayer, er, gene, in the blood. I'm surprised you're still alive. He could have torn out your throat instantly, had he wanted to."

"It was a girl," she muttered, lowering her head into her hands. "I don't remember much, but I remember that. My dad knocking her away. Having stitches."

Nobody said a word, and one of the main fears Kathryn had spilled out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"I'm eighteen," she blurted.

She looked up and saw Buffy's blank face, and Rupert's worried one. "That's . . . unfortunate," he muttered, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his tweed jacket.

Spike turned away from the counter and looked at Kathryn briefly, but his eyes quickly found Rupert and ignored her. "So what about bein' eighteen? Last I checked, Summers here is nineteen, or thereabouts."

"Not quite yet, I'm still eighteen. Why? Planning on getting me a present, Spike?"

"In your dreams, Slayer."

"Yeah, my bad ones."

"Enough, you two. I'm sure you've noticed we have a situation here, and I'm quite certain Kathryn doesn't want to listen to you two quip over her genuine concerns," he snapped, glaring at the both of them. Buffy looked at the ground, almost shamefully, but Spike gave Rupert a dirty look and rolled his eyes. "To answer your question, Spike, the Council has a . . . test. It's supposed to, ah, let them know whether or not the slayer is worthy of her powers. They lock her in a room with an insane vampire, with all of her powers stripped, to see if she can survive. This happens on her eighteenth birthday."

"Well good news for Kathryn here, they missed it."

"It doesn't quite work that way, Spike. In the event a slayer is called after her eighteenth birthday, the Council gives her one month--from the date she was called--to, ah . . . practice, and then they . . . perform the test. Er . . . I hate to worry you, but in this situation, I don't think tact is very helpful. In these situations, the slayer rarely lives and . . . so they don't bother sending a watcher. Especially if it's someone such as you--someone who hasn't been trained. Most slayers, as I'm sure you know, are trained rigorously before they are called, and . . . if she wasn't trained and she happens to be called after her eighteenth birthday, they consider it a lost cause; a waste of time. It's only happened once before, in the early 1800's."

"Did she . . . survive?" Kathryn asked, knowing the answer but having to ask anyway.

Rupert's face fell even more. "No, she didn't."

"Oh my God," she moaned, pressing her fingers against her eyes, more tears leaking through, her voice cracking. "I'm gonna die. I don't wanna die," she managed, her voice weak.

"You won't die. Luckily for you, you happen to live in Sunnydale, with us. We will train you. I refuse to allow your death," Rupert said.

Kathryn looked up at him. "But, um . . . Kyle said you got fired."

"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"Tomorrow, after school, you come directly here. I will start training you. I'm warning you, I won't be easy on you. You situation is dire, and you cannot afford to be lazy, or weak. If you plan on surviving, you cannot take this lightly, understood?"

Kathryn nodded, although what he said really didn't make her feel better. "Okay, I'll be here."

"You have a slayer to help you, not to mention a former watcher. You'll do fine," he said.

"Well, an' me. I've got some fightin' knowledge, yeah?" Spike informed, standing up straighter. Rupert and Buffy looked at him with shock. "What? I know a bit about . . . er, slayers. Fightin' an' all."

"Oh, right, because I'm sure she wants you to--"

"Well, I've studied up on slayers, haven't I? Ever since I found out what they were, I've been a bit obsessed. Since, you know, slayers . . . are good, like me, and kill vampires, like me. 'Cause I hate vampires, obviously. I came to you guys for vampire troubles, remember?"

Buffy and Rupert looked at each other and then at Kathryn. Rupert sighed. "I suppose you did. If Kathryn is all right with you training her . . ."

"I am. Any help is appreciated, really."

Spike smirked. "Well, if you're plannin' on training, you're gonna need some rest. How 'bout I take you home, then?"

Kathryn stood up and brushed off her clothes, still feeling jittery, and honestly doubting any amount of training would save her. She nodded, and her and Spike left the house, with him lighting up a cigarette.

* * *

Kathryn knew that she should be sleeping. But she couldn't. Spike had tried being positive on the way to her house, but she still had her doubts. She would probably just decide to stay home tomorrow--she didn't really think she'd be able to pay attention anyway, after having found out she was a slayer and would probably die within the next month. The only physical fight she'd been in consisted of her punching Spike, so it's not like she had heaps of experience.

After several hours of her lying in her bed and staring at the ceiling, she heard her brother pull into the driveway and walk into the house. Her dad had gotten home a few hours earlier, and was already in bed. She wondered what her dad would think if she tried to tell him she was a slayer. He'd probably think her brother had finally convinced her it was real, and that she was as crazy as Kyle.

Sighing, she pushed the blankets off of her and left her room, walking down the stairs. She went into the kitchen to see her brother drinking a beer, still in his bartender uniform. He turned around and jumped a little when he saw her, then kept sipping out of his bottle. "You should be in bed. You've got school in the morning."

"I'm not going," she told him.

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows in a concerned way. "What's up?"

Kathryn swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm a slayer."

He dropped his bottle with a clunk, and it tipped over, spilling beer all over the floor. She didn't know if he thought she was just being a bitch or if he really believed her. But after his initial shock, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug so tight it cracked her back. Which actually felt pretty good, so she didn't complain.

Kathryn started crying into her brother's shoulder, and he just held her tighter.

"That's a crap way to find out demons exist," he managed to joke, but she heard the waver in his voice, and that only made her cry harder.

He rubbed her back, and for the first time in her life, she didn't want to smack her brother for believing in demons.

* * *

As soon as Spike walked into Giles' house and shut the door behind him, Buffy punched him. He flew back and hit the door, then Buffy grabbed his throat and held him steady. He pushed her arms off of him and hit her back, only to activate his chip and have pain ricochet throughout his skull.

Buffy grabbed his arm and basically manhandled him onto a chair, where Giles began to wrap the ropes around him. He tried to fight them off, but it didn't really work seeing as if he got violent with them or tried to hurt them, his chip would go off, so far sooner than he would have liked, he found himself tied to the chair again. Well, at least it wasn't the tub.

"What the hell is your problem, Spike?" Buffy demanded.

"Right now? Being tied to a chair pretty much tops the list."

"She doesn't know you're a vampire," she pointed out, as if that was the worst thing Spike could have possibly done to the chit.

"Yeah, and? First I met her, she didn't even believe in that, so what was I supposed to do? Try an' convince her? If her brother hadn't managed it after, oh, ten bloody years, I doubt I could have."

"You could have vamped out, smart one."

"Why on earth would I want her knowing that I was a vampire? So she could treat me like you lot do? I don't bloody think so. Maybe I liked havin' someone talk to me, ever think on that?"

"When she comes here tomorrow, you are going to tell her, got it?" Buffy ordered, putting her hands on her hips.

"Like hell I will!" he snapped.

"Then I will."

"No you bloody won't you stupid bint!"

"Give me one good reason not to." She folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sure that's the first thing you want to tell her; that you're a slayer who lets vampires shack up with her former watcher. Yeah, that won't confuse her at all," he murmured, snarling slightly.

Buffy and Giles shared a look of realization, and Spike suddenly felt rather smug. That had been a pretty good reason not to blab about him being a vampire.

"You can't help her train, Spike. You can only hurt demons, as I recall," Giles pointed out, as if mocking him.

"I can fight with her, and oh, if I don't actually want to hurt her, I can't punch her all I like. It's about intent, see."

"How do you know that?"

"Look, luv, when you get a chip in your head and you wander around for a few days, you realize a few things, and accidentally hurtin' someone doesn't make the chip go off. And not meanin' to hurt someone doesn't do a thing either."

Giles and Buffy shared a look, then Giles took off his glasses and began to rub them. "I don't know how much we'll be able to train her, Buffy. It doesn't look very hopeful. We're going to need as much help as possible. And even then, I'm not sure she will . . ."

He didn't need to finish the sentence in order for them to understand what he meant.

Buffy sighed, then grabbed the ropes and started to untie Spike, although she did it roughly.

* * *

A/N--okay, hopefully this clears up some Watcher questions you may have. I hope you are enjoying mroe story. Anyway, don't be shy, please review.


	6. Chapter 6

Kathryn's muscles were sore. She had spent the better part of her day throwing punches and having Rupert correct them, and criticize her stance, and her force behind her punches, and basically everything she did. She understood why he was taking it seriously and she was definitely glad of it, but it didn't make her feel any better about her situation. She had hoped that he would at least find one good thing about her fighting abilities, but he hadn't found any.

What did that say about her chances of surviving the test? Technically, she had been a slayer for five whole days before they'd started training, so it wasn't like they really had a month to train anyway.

The punching bag that Rupert had procured from wherever the hell he kept it swung in front of her, and she felt a deep loathing for the object. She mustered up that hate, and hit it as hard as she could with her right fist.

"You're getting better, however you're still holding your fist wrong. You could injure your wrist if you continue to hold it as such," he said, coming up to her and holding her elbow and wrist, and moving it until it was in the proper position. "And you must remember not to use all of your strength so early on. You could tire yourself easily. Remember, there is as much to value in your less powerful attacks as much as your powerful ones."

She nodded, and held her fist in the proper way, and started jabbing the punching bag a few times, throwing in a left jab every now and then, or a right or left hook. Her arms were aching and her chest felt tight, but she knew that she had to get used to the pain, otherwise she wouldn't last very long.

At least they weren't working on her kicks anymore. She'd fallen on her ass a few times, and her legs were sore from it. She couldn't kick properly, either, and Rupert said that put unnecessary strain on her ankle or something.

All in all, she wasn't doing very well. It was only her first day, but it wasn't like she had oodles of time to practice. She could tell Rupert was getting frustrated, but she couldn't help it.

Finally, hours later, she plopped down on the couch beside Spike, her muscles aching and burning. "Tomorrow we will start on blocking, do you object?"

"No," she said through her heavy breaths.

"Spike? Would you help her with blocking, then?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, I s'pose."

Rupert nodded, then looked down at Kathryn. "Would you like some tea?"

"Um, no, not a fan of tea. Can I have some water instead?"

He nodded, and bustled over to the kitchen.

Kathryn sighed and leaned against the back of the couch, willing her muscles to stop aching. She looked down at her fists and saw that her knuckles were bleeding. She sighed and stretched out her fingers, wincing when she felt the stings on her knuckles.

"I'm gonna die," she muttered, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"No you're not. It's your first day--can't expect perfection."

"I can when I only have like three weeks to get everything down."

"Yeah? And you got three weeks to get everything right. You really oughta put some ice on your knuckles luv."

Kathryn looked down at her knuckles and sighed. "Yeah, probably." Even though she agreed with him, she didn't move to get ice or anything; she just sat there.

Spike sighed, then got up off of the couch, sauntering off down the hallway. Kathryn glanced at his retreating form, then stared back down at her knuckles. She probably should have wrapped them up before hitting the bag all day.

Rupert came back and handed her a glass of water, and she drank it, not realizing just how thirsty she was until the cool water hit her throat. Rupert went back into the kitchen and started bustling about.

Spike came back and knelt in front of her, and she put the glass between her legs when Spike grabbed her right hand. He pressed the wet rag against her knuckles and she winced and hissed a little at the pain, but stared at Spike, who forced her hands together and made it so the rag was pressed against both of her hands.

"You really oughta take care of yourself, luv. The council isn't gonna give you a rain check 'cause you got cuts and scrapes, yeah?" he said quietly, glancing up at Rupert, almost like he didn't want him to overhear what he was saying, although Kathryn didn't know why because he wasn't saying anything mean.

She nodded, the cold glass of water she held between her legs making her pants damp and numbing her skin a little. She pulled her hand away from Spike to drink her water, and winced when he pressed the rag against her left hand a bit too hard. However, she sat the cup on the floor beside her feet, so that it wouldn't freeze her legs, and then put her hand back into Spike's so that he could keep washing off her blood gently, and press the cold rag against her wound.

"You know I'm not going to live through this, right? We're just getting my hopes up," she whispered, and she heard her voice crack.

He glanced up at her, eyes meeting hers briefly, but he said nothing, then focused back on her hands again. "Keep saying that sort of stuff, luv, and it wouldn't surprise me. Quit bein' so bloody negative. You'll do fine. If Summers could do it, you can too."

"You don't like her very much, do you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea? The fact I complain about her constantly, or the fact I always insult her?"

She chuckled a little bit and he looked up at her, the smile on his face small. He held her hands in his own, and started massaging them a little through the rag. "I think it's a bit of both," she answered, although it really had been a rhetorical question.

He smiled briefly. "What do you think about her, then?"

Kathryn shrugged. "I don't know. Haven't really talked her much."

"What's your first impression, then?"

"Well I can hardly trust that. I mean, you can't judge someone by your first impression. My first impression of you was . . . not important."

"Come on, you can tell me."

She smirked. "Fine then. I didn't like you. At all."

He frowned and stopped massaging her hands, but continued to hold them. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's kinda stupid, really. You didn't do anything to piss me off, and you were nice. Maybe it was the fact you were chained in a tub and the first thing you suggested we do was steal stuff and hock it."

He shrugged, and returned his attention back to her hands. "Maybe. But you like me now, right?"

Kathryn didn't know what to say. A part of her felt cautious around him, but when she looked at him, kneeling before her, pressing the now-warm rag to her hands, she realized that she was probably just being stubborn by holding onto her cautiousness and shrugged. "Yeah, I like you enough," she said.

"Good, 'cause that would just be bleedin' awkward. What, with our little training session tomorrow an' all."

She chuckled a little bit. "Yeah, I guess." He smiled up at her and, and she realized she really liked his smile. "You fight vampires too, then, huh? For how long?"

"Years," he answered with a shrug, removing the cloth from her hand.

"How'd you find out they were real?"

He opened his mouth and looked at her, then he closed his mouth, furrowing his brows thoughtfully. She wondered why he looked contemplative, but then he shrugged and looked back down. "Well, I got attacked, actually."

"Oh, like me," she pointed out.

He nodded. "Yeah, bit like you." He pulled away the warm rag and stood up. "Well, why don't you finish your drink there, and I'll take you home."

"Okay." She stood up, wincing when her legs tightened and dully ached. She didn't know how she was supposed to work on anything tomorrow when her entire body was burning and aching with pain.

As soon as Spike left the living room, Rupert came up to her, ignoring the fact she was busy drinking her water. "Take a warm bath, and perhaps massage your legs. Tomorrow you will be stiff, but we cannot afford rest in your case. I apologize." She nodded at him, taking a longer drink of the water. "Kathryn . . . If Spike, for whatever reason, ever makes you feel uncomfortable, you tell us straight away, understand?"

"What?" she managed after swallowing. "Why? He's not . . . He's not like a child molester or anything? Well, I'm not a child, am I? I mean, he's not some sort of . . . rapist?" The thought sickened her, even though he didn't really strike her as a sexual predator. Although a part of her still felt awkward when around him, she doubted he would do such a thing, however she had no idea why else Rupert would say that.

"No, of course not, we wouldn't allow him near you if that were the case. He's just . . . he's a pillock."

"Oh, well, in that case I'll come running if he insults me and gets bitchy." She rolled her eyes. He didn't seem to appreciate her sarcastic tone, but to be honest, it really annoyed her how they treated him. Out of all of everyone she had met in the past few days, Spike was the only one who had befriended her, and they were treating him like a freak. She had been put off by Buffy's attitude towards him, as if she somehow had a right to tell him where he could go and when, and now them getting her all worked up just because he was an asshole was a bit ridiculous.

* * *

"Well, this is me," Kathryn stated, and Spike nodded, kicking up some dirt.

"Yep. Your brother home?" he asked.

"Actually, yeah. Today is his day off."

Spike hissed quietly and scowled. "Bad luck. Was gonna invite myself in, but with him there an' all, don't really feature gettin' you into an argument."

"He won't mind. He knows I'm a slayer now, and if he starts something, I'll just tell him to back off. I mean, if you want to--you don't have to come in, you know."

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I hadn't." She smiled at him and he walked with her into the house, noticing how she winced every now and then and how she walked stiffly. With all the training she had done that day, it wasn't at all surprising she was sore.

He knew she still wasn't too keen on him. He could tell by the way she would flinch if he moved towards her too fast, or by the way she seemed to withdraw a bit when he turned his attention towards her for too long. However, slowly, it seemed she was starting to grow to like him, and that was good for him. At least she wasn't a complete bitch about it like some people could be.

"How was training?" Kyle asked. Spike realized that Kyle said it casually, like it was something he talked about every day. It was just like stepping into a conversation with the Scoobies.

Kathryn sighed. "It was crap," she stated.

Spike raised an eyebrow at Kyle, who looked him over. "What are you doing here?"

"Spike helps me train, Kyle. Tomorrow he's going to help me block and stuff. He's just hanging out, but he probably won't stay long. I'm kinda tired." She put a hand on her back and headed over to the stairs.

Kyle eyed Spike and Spike just smirked at him, knowing his glare was superior, then followed Kathryn up the stairs to her room. As soon as she made it to her bed, she plopped down on it, lying on her back and letting out an exhausted sigh. Spike smirked at her. "Tired, luv?"

"Yep."

She closed her eyes just as he lied down beside her, the mattress shifting under his weight. He put his hands behind his head, getting in a more comfortable position. She had a nice bed--far nicer than the tub he had to sleep in, and the couch whenever Giles was in a kind mood. "Not surprising," he pointed out, glancing sideways at her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him briefly, then focused on the ceiling. "And I smell gross. Lovely. I'll probably hop into the shower after you leave."

Spike turned his head and smirked at her. "Or I could hop in with you."

She scoffed and swatted at his arm playfully. He chuckled and she just shook her head. "Wouldn't that be great to try and explain to my brother?"

"He's not your dad, and even if that were the case, you're eighteen, luv. Perfectly capable of making your own decisions."

"Yeah, well . . . I don't really blame him for being so protective of me." He caught the slightly defensive tone, and nearly scowled. Still a bit annoyed with him, then. Damn her bloody slayer intuition. If she wasn't born to slay him, she probably wouldn't defend her prat of a brother. "I mean, almost killed by a vampire at the age of five? I really can't be too pissed off about it." Well, he supposed she did have a point there.

Spike turned so that he was lying on his side. Kathryn was studiously staring at the ceiling and avoiding looking at him. Spike brushed away some of her limp hair so that he could see her neck, and luckily he was on the side of her where he could see her scars. Watching her intently for a reaction, he brushed the back of his finger across her scars. She bit her lip briefly and tensed up. He ran his skin along hers a second time, just to tease her. He liked the way she tensed up and bit her lip.

"What did she look like?" he asked in a low, flirtatious tone. He remembered her saying that the girl had bit her.

"Um, brown hair, I think. Don't know. Memory's kinda fuzzy." Her tone was a bit choppy, which only made him chuckle deeply, leaning a bit closer to her.

Spike grinned, then brushed her hair away again. "Well, I'm glad she didn't off you. Wouldn't have anyone else to talk to if she had."

"I'm glad, too," she said quietly. "I just . . . I'm really not ready for death. Guess that won't prevent it, though."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "You're not gonna die, luv. I swear it." He ran his fingers through her hair, being careful to not tug on any knots. He knew what it was like to have curly hair. He liked feeling it against his fingers.

"You don't even know me, Spike. Why do you care so much?"

"As if I get off on people dying," he muttered, realizing the irony of the statement. However, she didn't know he liked to murder people--or would like, anyway, were it not for the chip in his head--so he supposed it was only funny to him.

"Well, uh . . . thanks. For helping."

He nodded, which was awkward seeing as he was lying on his side. He tucked her hair behind her ear, then ran his thumb along the top curve and then across the lobe of her ear. He could hear her breath quicken, although it didn't really get louder. It had been awhile since he'd last gotten a shag, and that had been with Harmony. And whilst she had been quite a good lay, she wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

"I should probably get in the shower," she said suddenly, sitting up quickly so that he wasn't touching her ear anymore. Spike nearly growled out of frustration. Apparently he'd come on a bit too strong too quickly. Ah, well. It wasn't like he couldn't get some bint off at the Bronze. She got off of the bed and smiled briefly at him. "See you tomorrow then?"

"It's a date," he said, getting off of the bed and standing in front of her.

"I think dates require payment of some kind."

"I thought that was a hooker?" he retaliated with a cheeky grin in her direction, which made her smile and roll her eyes.

"Well, I don't really want to get my ass beat for my first date, so I think I'll pass."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "What? _First_ date?"

She blinked a few times, and if he wasn't mistaken, her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. Then again, that could have been from all the training. "Unlike some people, Spike, I can't waltz up to anyone I want and molest their ear to get a date," she said after a moment, smirking right back at him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, well my apologies to your ear, then." She smiled at him and for a moment all went silent and their eyes locked. Despite the fact her hair was limp and curling up in ways that it shouldn't, she actually looked a bit cute when she smiled at him. He cleared his throat and nodded at her. "Right, well, I suppose I'll see you--and your ear--tomorrow, then?"

"Purely as friends, of course," she said mockingly.

"Oh, bloody hell, I was startin' to like your ear too," he replied with an eyebrow quirk. Even though he could tell she was a bit uncomfortable with his obvious flirting, at least she wasn't being a royal bitch about it.

She laughed genially, then punched him gently in the shoulder. "Good night, Spike."

He sauntered backwards for a moment so he could look at her as he walked off before he left her room. "Night, luv." She waved at him and he left the room, walking down the stairs, smirking a little although he wasn't quite sure why.

"Training, huh?" came the voice of Kyle, who was standing in the archway that separated the foyer and the living room. Fantastic--just what he needed to end the day . . . well, night. An over-protective brother that knew Spike was a vampire.

"Yep, training." Spike glared at him, waiting for him to say something else. But he didn't wait for very long. "Well, unless you got somethin' to say, mate, I'll be on my merry."

Kyle stepped in front of him and narrowed his hazel eyes. "I do got something to say, _mate."_ Spike stood up straighter and tilted his chin up slightly to give him a nasty glare. Even if the guy was taller than him, he could still beat him to a bloody pulp. Well, except for the chip rammed in his sodding skull, anyway. Still, didn't' stop him from punching him before--why would it stop him now?

Kyle faltered briefly and Spike raised both of his eyebrows briefly, daring him to make a move as he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. "Say it, then."

"She doesn't know you're a vampire, does she?"

"That obvious, huh?"

"Why the hell you training a slayer, Spike? Hoping you can learn the moves so if the chip ever comes out, you can have first hand knowledge of the way she moves? Is that it?"

Spike opened his mouth to tell him the truth, and that he hadn't been planning that, but then the thought kicked around in his brain a bit. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Hold up a mo', that's actually not a bad idea." He thought about that for a second then shrugged. "But no, actually, just wantin' to train her. Got nothing to worry about. Well, unless I get this chip out, then I'd start packing. 'Til then," he said in parting, then walked past him, deliberately ramming his shoulder into Kyle's as he left.

Oddly enough, the thought of using it to learn how she fought in case the chip was ever removed hadn't even occurred to him until Kyle had mentioned it. And now that he had, he couldn't get the idea out of his head. Had it been Buffy or some other bitch he didn't like, it wouldn't have taken him two seconds to think of that. Luckily for her (until big brother opened his mouth, ironically) she wasn't a right cow from hell and so if the occasion ever came up, he'd make sure to kill her fast, so as to avoid much pain.

Buffy, on the other hand, would for hours on end. Filthy bitch.


	7. Chapter 7

Once again, Kathryn found herself on her ass. Her bones jarred against each other and she felt he sudden, but rather dull, pain of it ricochet throughout her body. Spike raised an eyebrow at her, then lowered his defensive stance and offering his hand. She grabbed it and he pulled her to her feet with relative ease, which was odd to her for some reason, although she didn't really think about it too much.

"You're supposed to jump over my feet, luv, not sit there dawdling 'til they trip you."

She nodded and rubbed her lower back for a split second. "Yeah, I know. Just not very quick, I guess."

"Not quick enough at any rate," he stated bluntly. She nodded, feeling her hair bounce against her face. She hadn't really spent much time combing it and she hadn't put any makeup on, so she was sure she looked horrible. It didn't really matter to her, but she wondered how on earth Buffy managed to keep her hair and makeup perfect after fighting ever day of her life. Didn't her body ache constantly? Or did she become used to it eventually?

Somehow, getting used to being in pain didn't really make her feel any better.

"Well, you are kinda going a bit rough on her Spike. She's just new at it, is all," Willow said, who was sitting on Rupert's couch with her legs folded. "Besides, I thought Giles said not to train in the house, anyway. Thought you were supposed to do it outside."

"Yeah, right, middle of the bloody afternoon, that's a genius plan," Spike aired sarcastically while rolling his eyes. Kathryn must have looked confused, because when he looked at her, he went on to explain. "It would look a bit weird, wouldn't it? Seeing me kick the piss outta you. Might get a few bobbies 'round here, and that's the last thing I wanna explain. 'Sorry, Officer, I was just training this young girl here to fight off vampire' yeah _that_ would go spectacularly."

Willow looked between them with a bemused expression on her face, which only confused Kathryn more, and when Willow noticed that Kathryn was looking at her strangely, she quickly looked down at a book she was reading.

Spike pulled up his fists in a defensive posture. "Right, I'm gonna show you how to do this, yeah? Go to hit me--slowly, so you can see it, right?"

She nodded, the went to punch him in slow motion. With his right arm, he knocked her fist aside, then pretended to punch her with his left. "See what I did? I want you to repeat that, slowly, like I did. 'Cept you're right handed, so maybe, er, switch or somethin'."

They had been doing that for several hours. To be honest, learning to block was more relaxing than learning how to punch. Although it did strain her already sore muscles, it wasn't nearly as taxing. Of course, as soon as they stepped out of slow-motion mode and into normal-paced mode, it wasn't nearly as relaxing. She swore to God Spike moved inhumanly fast, and whenever she didn't manage to block it properly sometimes he would actually get a hit in, and that hurt. A lot.

"Think you got it?" he asked after she repeated the gesture a few times in slow motion, steadily going a bit faster and smoother. She nodded. "Right, this is normal pace. Don't' wanna bruise you up more than I already have." He sniffed and pulled up his fists, then smirked. "Good thing you slayers heal quickly, eh?"

She was in the process of nodding to agree with him when he swung at her. It caught her off guard, but she somehow managed to block him perfectly.

"Good job, luv. Now come at me with everything you got, and I'll try and block you. You gotta remember this is just as important as giving it your all--swinging and kicking and bashing others' heads in won't do you any good if you can't stop them from doing the same thing."

Even though her body protested rather fervently, she charged at him. Wanting to attack him came easily for her; she assumed it was because she knew he could handle himself, and they trusted each other. Well, at least, she hoped they trusted each other. She wasn't quite sure if she trusted him yet, so why would he trust her in return? At any rate, when it came to fighting, neither of them had a problem with it, so there was at least that for her to count on.

Despite the fact she was giving it her all, he managed to block every single hit with ease. She supposed she couldn't expect anything different--he had been fighting vampires for years, and she was a complete newbie. However, it angered her that he did it without breaking a sweat.

He kept making random comments about her posture, but to be honest, she couldn't really pay much attention to his praise or his criticism while trying to punch his face in. Her arms ached and every time she felt some part of his body brush her attacks away, it added insult to the injury.

"See what I did there? Some thing as earlier, only--"

BAM!

Her fist collided with his jaw and he stumbled from the shock of it. Probably instinctively, he reared back his fist to punch her, but she ducked underneath his fist. He let out a yell and grabbed his forehead, probably in frustration, which left him open and she punched him again.

He stumbled backwards and growled, giving her a nasty glare. He looked almost feral for that split second, but then he clenched the muscles in his jaw and cocked his head to the side, closing his eyes. She smirked at him--oh, he hadn't been expecting that, had he?

It was then she realized Willow had cheered. "Wow, good hit, Kathryn!"

"Thanks."

"Right then, my turn. You block me," he said quickly, rearing back his fist suddenly, his lips pursed a bit angrily.

"Um, you sure that's a good idea, Spike?" Willow said tentatively, and Spike turned his head to regard her, keeping his fist cocked back. "You know, 'cause of the . . . You know . . . Her being new at this and all?"

Spike stared at her for a second longer, then finally looked back at Kathryn, and she noticed that he didn't look nearly as pissed off as he had been. "Don't worry. I have no intention of hurting you." He went to hit her with a left hook, but she reared her head back just in time, his fists so close to her face she almost felt his flesh scrape past her nose, and when his hand came back to get her wit ha backhand, she reached up and grabbed it, her hand clenched around his wrist. A positively wicked (and rather attractive) grin spread across his features and he widened his eyes briefly. "Much," he added in a deep voice.

She let go of his hand and stepped back, and he went at her. She tried to block his hits, but sometimes (which meant often) he'd manage to get a hit in. But for some reason, he kept chuckling and laughing at her, and that made it slightly entertaining, and she found herself grinning and chuckling too. Until one of his well-aimed punches hit her in the face accidentally; that was less funny.

When her legs started to burn and felt like they were made of lead, he started getting in more hits, so she threw a punch at him (a slow punch that he probably saw coming for miles) and he grabbed her fist, twisting it behind her back and thrusting her against his chest. A sharp pain went through her elbow and she felt her wrist pop, but it wasn't anything compared to the acid burning holes in her arms and the twinges all throughout her legs.

His chest was barely moving with breath, although perhaps he was breathing a bit quicker than normal, but her was rising and falling rapidly as she sucked in air through her nose. He stared at her and their eyes locked, a bit like the night before, and she felt a little light-headed--although that might have been because she was hyperventilating. Their chests were pressed tightly against the other, which made it a bit uncomfortable, as was the fact he still held her elbow behind her back.

"You're dead, luv."

"You haven't bitten me," she pointed out haughtily.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Is that me barfing?" came the unprecedented voice of Buffy.

Spike let go of Kathryn and stepped away from her. She hadn't realize just how much she was using his body for support and she swayed a bit. The pain in her body came back at her with full force, and all she wanted to do was sleep for the next several years.

"I was just training her, Slayer."

"Yeah, caught the tail-end of it. She needs a lot more practice--you got in a few hits that she should have been able to block easily."

Kathryn felt a stab of anger. Like Buffy would be able to do much better in her position. Did everyone forget this was her only second day training? Buffy making mention of the fact she seriously needed to improve only reminded her that she had less than a month before she was locked in a house with a crazy vampire without any of her powers. That anger quickly turned into fear.

"Well, it's only her second day Buffy, and Spike wasn't really going very easy on her."

Buffy looked between Kathryn and Spike. "Good. He shouldn't."

The anger returned.

Kathryn noticed how Buffy had on rather nice clothes and her makeup was on perfectly, and her hair still looked presentable. Kathryn was wearing sweats and a white tank-top, and her hair was probably a mess. She wasn't even wearing makeup. Suddenly she was even angrier at Buffy, which really didn't make much sense at all.

"Good thing you're putting forth an effort, though. Bet you're all sore, huh? Think you can toss in the towel, take some Advil, and lie down a bit?" Buffy asked, cocking her head to the side and looking suddenly very innocent and cute.

"Oh, please God yes."

Buffy smiled at her, almost in a fond way. "Come on. I know Giles has some great pain killers. Either he keeps them for me, or he's got a funny little drug habit that I don't even wanna know about." Kathryn nearly cracked a smile, then went to follow Buffy.

"And these pain killers . . . where are they?" Spike asked in a far-too-innocent voice.

"Keep dreaming, Spike," Buffy called over her shoulder.

"Oi! I got real legitimate pain here! She got in a few good hits, huh, Red?" He turned to Willow expectantly, who looked like she'd rather not participate in the conversation at all.

"Oh, come on, I've hit you way harder and more times, and you never needed it then. I'm not going to condone your drug habit."

"You hit him?" Kathryn asked, a little confused.

"Oh, um . . . we spar too, obviously," she said with a too-cheery voice which sort of unnerved Kathryn.

"Right, yeah, sparring," Spike said, nodding. "And anyway, never said anything about a habit, Summers. I was thinking about selling them for cash. After knocking a few down, o' course." He smirked and looped his thumbs through his belt loops.

Buffy just scoffed in response to him, then turned towards Kathryn. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so Giles'll probably want to run you ragged, which is actually a good thing. You think you wanna call home and ask to spend the night? I'm sure Giles won't mind you having the couch."

Kathryn opened her mouth to spout off some random excuse as to why she couldn't spend the night out of habit. After all, she had never spent the night away from home before, not without her brother close beside her with a cross and stake under his pillow. But then she realized that Kyle would probably _want_ her to spend the night so she could get an early training the next day. For once in her life, she had no need to think up an excuse in order for her to go home, so as to avoid blabbing about her brother's beliefs which turned out to be true.

"Um . . . Sure, yeah."

"Then where am I gonna sleep if she's got the couch?" Spike demanded.

"The tub," Buffy stated as if it were obvious.

Spike glared at Buffy. "I hate you."

* * *

Kathryn honestly didn't know what time it was. Although the pain pills Buffy had given her kicked in about twenty minute after she had taken them and she had fallen sleep not too long after that, her body now wreaked fiery vengeance upon her. Her back was stiff and sore; her legs and arms burned and ached. Not to mention she had a groggy head and the too-heavy eyelids that meant she had woken up earlier than she had expected to.

And to top it all off, she had to pee. When realized that it was her bladder throbbing that had woken her up, she grunted out in frustration and rolled off of the couch, her joints grinding as she did so. Kathryn had never been an athlete and she had never really exercised often. Sure, she participated in gym, but when it came to anything else that required her to be physically active, she pretty much walked, and that was it. After two days of throwing herself in training pretty much whole heartedly, and knowing that they couldn't go easy on her, it wasn't' really any surprise she felt like she was going to die. She had already taken off two days of school, and her dad was probably going to make her go on Monday. At least she had the weekend; that way she could focus on just training instead of homework and other school-related things she really couldn't care less about.

She hurried over to the bathroom, stumbling tiredly, barely able to see through her half-closed lids and blurry vision. Judging by the faint shade of steel-grey coming in through the windows, it must have been really early, and she wondered just how early Rupert had wanted her to wake up in order to train, because if he was going to start training her soon she really wouldn't be able to do it. How on earth could she learn if she couldn't even focus? If her body wouldn't let her do the work, how would it help her to not let her body rest?

She walked into the bathroom, leaving the door half open in her tired state so that she could use the grey sunrise in the hallway as light so she wouldn't have to blind herself turning on the bright lights of the bathroom.

She settled herself on the toilet and started peeing, sighing in relaxation as she emptied her burning bladder. She looked around the bathroom dully, blinking stupidly to get rid of the blurry vision.

And saw Spike's stunned face looking right at her.

She let out a loud shriek and her knees crashed together while she yanked her sweats up over her knees. "Close your eyes idiot!" she screamed.

"Oh, right," he mumbled quickly and squeezed his eyes shut. She stared intently at his face to make sure he didn't try to sneak a peek, and she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious of the sound of her pee hitting the water. "Lovely sight to see first thing in the morning, eh?" he joked with an evil grin on his face.

"Shut up!" she snapped.

Spike just laughed.

"Oh God, how can this get any--"

"What is it?" Rupert demanded, bursting into the bathroom with sweats and an bathrobe on, exposing his chest. His glasses were askew, but his eyes found Kathryn easily enough despite that fact.

"GET OUT!" she shouted.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Spike only laughed harder, which only made Kathryn's cheeks burn hotter and her heart pound faster in her chest. The bathroom was suddenly far too warm and as soon as she finished her business, she jerked her pants all the way up and flushed the toilet. She just wanted God to kill her right then and there. Her head was spinning and her skin was burning, and Spike's laughter echoed around her ears.

"Shut up," she mumbled when she turned on the sink, glaring at him to see that his head was tilted back while he howled with laughter at her expense. "I said stop it!" She grabbed the bar of soap and threw it at him, and it bounced off of his head.

He stopped laughing, but he still had a grin on his face. "Ooh, testy now, are we?"

"You would be too in my situation!" she spat.

"Yeah, well, next time be more observant and we won't have a problem, will we?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest, and opening her mouth to retort, but then realized that he was right, and that she should have been paying attention. She had been too tired to think properly, otherwise she would have remembered that he was supposed to be sleeping in the tub, or at least she would have noticed him in it when she walked in. "Yeah, sorry," she mumbled.

"No need to apologize," he said with a smirk.

She scoffed and went to walk out of the bathroom, but then her groggy mind thought of something. "Wait, have you been to bed yet?"

"No, just got in here a few minutes ago. I've got a hard time sleeping, plus, it's a bloody bathtub, can't really expect me to get a good night's rest in it. Doesn't really inspire comfort, porcelain. Insomnia doesn't help much either." He sighed, looking her over. "You up for the day, then?"

"Ah, no, just gonna grab some more pain killers then off to the couch again."

He nodded. "Right, well, when you wake up, don't hesitate to come get me."

"All right." She turned around and left the bathroom, to find Rupert waiting in the hall for her. She sighed. Why on earth had he waited for her to leave?

He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "You screamed, and I thought perhaps . . ." He eyed the bathroom door for a moment, and he didn't have to finish the sentence in order for her to know he was insinuating Spike had done something to her.

"I just started going pee and I didn't realize Spike was there, is all."

He nodded. "Yes, well . . . I apologize for, er . . ."

"Walking in on me?" she finished for him, seeing as he didn't seem to want to do it himself. "Look, um, can I have more pain pills please?"

"Yes, of course. Er, Kathryn, may I ask something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Did you ever dream about the vampires? As they are now, I mean, not . . . some fictional, er, representation."

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, yeah. What, with my brother constantly talking about them, of course I did. You know, with the bumpy foreheads and all. I never liked those dreams."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I always died in 'em."

Rupert nodded as if he'd been expecting her to say that. "Yes . . . Well, I suppose, since you're awake, we'll have some breakfast and head right into training."

Kathryn could have punched him.

* * *

"So, is this like the routine now?" Kyle asked just as Kathryn sat down on the couch, slipping into comfort.

Kathryn sighed and looked at him with a scowl. "Is what routine?"

"Spike walking you home?"

"I guess. I don't know. I've only been training for three days. Besides, he didn't even stay long this time; what's the big deal?"

"I never said it was a big deal--I just wanted to know if it was routine," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her.

Kathryn looked at Kyle and narrowed her eyebrows. Maybe spending one day away from him made him miss her so much he decided to be nice about Spike. "I don't know."

"Oh. Well . . . better for someone to walk you home than not, I suppose." He sat next to her and picked up the remote, beginning to switch through the channels. "I mean, you're still new at this, so if a vampire decided to attack, you probably wouldn't fare too well."

"Not to mention the fact my whole body hurts like a bitch," she pointed out. "Well, not right now 'cause I've got really awesome pain killers, but in a few hours . . . I had to keep taking them all day just to get through training."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Sunday is a rest day. Just like God intended. Thank you, God."

Kyle chuckled a little, then sighed. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," she said, knowing he was going to tell her no matter what she told him.

"I knew you were a slayer ages ago."

Kathryn frowned, then turned her head to look at Kyle suspiciously. "What? No you didn't."

"I did. Why do you think I was more insistent with you than anyone else?"

Kathryn sighed and shook her head. "Whatever. If you knew, why didn't you tell the Council? I seriously doubt you knew and they didn't."

"I did tell them my concerns. And you know what they did? Sent me a letter thanking me for my help, and that they would look into it. They never did. I told them this when I was seventeen. I figured that if they started training you at thirteen then you might, I don't know, be really good. I mean, I didn't want to hand you over to a bunch of strangers and possibly never see you again, but . . . Well, I figured it was the right thing to do."

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "Why didn't they come?"

"I asked Giles that, too, when I first started talking to him. Apparently they get thousands of letters like that, far too many for them to take seriously. From people who think that a girl is a potential just because she knows martial arts or other stupid stuff. They only read the ones from people who have a connection with the Council, like former watchers or something. I guess I get it--they've only missed a few slayers in the past. I guess throughout all of history, they're only wrong about one percent of the time, maybe even less. They can't be bothered to check every single girl mentioned in every letter. And, no offence, but you weren't very . . . you didn't stand out. I mean, they just thought I was some delusional fanboy who lost it because my mom and sister were slaughtered by vampires when I was little."

Kathryn frowned a little bit. "But um . . . Thousands of letters? Aren't they supposed to be like secret or something?"

"Anybody who seriously knows anything about demons knows about slayers and the council. You've got vampires trying to lure them into a trap, former watchers, slayers, potential slayers, their parents and family, people who get attacked and become obsessed with it like I do . . . And you even have people who repeatedly send them letters. There are six billion people on this planet. Even if only like two percent of the population knew about that sort of thing, even a smaller percent, that's still a load of people."

Kathryn had never really thought about it that way before, but it really did make sense. "Well . . . How did you know?"

"You dreamt of previous slayers. You told me about some of these dreams, and I remembered reading about how certain slayers died, but I never told them to you. Other little things. The vampire that went after you? As soon as you walked out, she headed right for you. She dropped me, and went right to you."

Kathryn frowned, then stared at the television blankly. "So . . . It's a slayer thing to dream about vampires? Rupert was asking about that this morning."

"Well, not about vampires, but previous slayers. So, um . . . What about your Watcher? Aren't they going to send him--or her--soon?"

"Doubt it. Maybe after I pass that test," she mumbled weakly. Off of Kyle's confused look, she sighed. "I wasn't called until after my eighteenth birthday. They give me one month to train until that test. I haven't been trained, at all, until now. They don't exactly have high hopes for me, so why waste time and money sending a watcher over here just for me to die in a month?"

"You're not going to die," he said forcefully.

"Yeah, well, that's not what it looks like to them, apparently."

Kyle put his hand on her shoulder for a second and she looked at him. "You'll do fine. You've got a group of people who can train you better than a bunch of stuffy statistic-addicted losers. You've got a slayer who _passed_ the test, a witch, a watcher who actually cares, and a vampire wh--hunter, who knows what he's talking about."

Kathryn smiled at him when he removed his hand. "Now, why don't you go upstairs, take a bath because you really reek, and get some sleep. I'll take you out for ice cream tomorrow."

Kathryn chuckled. "Okay."


	8. Chapter 8

Spike thought he was going to enjoy himself. He thought that Kathryn having a day off would mean he would have a day off as well. Not from fighting--he had no problems whatsoever about throwing punches at a slayer, even if he couldn't intend to hurt her and sometimes he did intend to and therefore had his sodding chip go off--but from them.

Spike, in all his infinite wisdom, had assumed that after helping the poor chit, even if just to cure his own boredom, that the Scoobs would be nicer to him. He had assumed they would tone down their hatred, if only a little bit.

He was an idiot.

If anything, they seemed to hate him more. Well, except Willow, but then again, she had never really been that mean to him in the first place. Out of all of the Scoobs, Willow should have hated him the most. He didn't threaten to shove a bottle through any of their faces, nor kidnap them. Well, maybe The Whelp--he'd hit him upside the head with a rather heavy microscope. Point was, he was doing good, he was doing them all a favour--all right, so maybe it was entirely out of selfish reason, but it still counted!

Instead, he had to listen to Buffy lecture him and Giles tell him off even more than they originally had. They had it in their heads he was trying to find a way to kill her, which to be honest, he hadn't even thought about until her big-mouthed brother spouted off the idea. And that wasn't even his intention at all! He just wanted to do something other than sit in porcelain tub with shackles around his wrists.

"Thanks for coming with me," Willow said, who was standing a bit close to Spike and looking around at the dark night.

"S'all right. Should be thanking you, actually, for askin'. But I'm not a thanking guy, so good luck tearin' that outta me. And if you mention this to anyone, I won't do it again, ya hear? I'm not gonna be known as Red's bodyguard."

"Of course not! I just, um, I would have asked Buffy but . . . It's sort of a, uh, delicate issue."

"And me, bein' the Lord of All Things Delicate . . ."

"I didn't mean that. You're still all rough and mean and evil."

"Too right about that," he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a cigarette. He put it in his mouth and lit it with the Zippo he pulled out of another pocket, blowing out some smoke while he out the lighter away. "So what's this delicate matter then? So delicate you couldn't get the Whelp or Summers to come with you for protection?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to be outside in the dark by myself 'cause of the whole vampire thing, but don't think I'm too afraid to do it myself! It's just, uh . . . I wanted someone to talk to about it. I mean, on the way there."

"And who's to say I won't go blabbing then? Not exactly a nice guy, remember?"

"It's . . . hard to explain. It's just . . . With the thing that happened with Oz, nobody wanted to hear my problem, and that was after being dumped after two years, and . . . Well, why would they want to hear about this?"

"Why would I want to hear about it then?"

"It's just . . . you know how Buffy is . . ."

"Always gotta be about her and if it isn't, God forbid, the world is going to hell, stupid conceited bitch? That it?"

"Um . . . Not exactly the words I would have used, but . . ." Spike could literally see her consider whether she should stick up for her best friend or agree with him. She bit her bottom lip furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, it's just . . . I don't want them trying to, you know . . . make Tara like one of them. I don't want it to be about demons and stuff, I just want it to be about us. I mean, it's nice, having a friend outside of the group, you know? Someone all to myself."

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Right . . . Look, luv, I don't even know what you're talking about. Who's Tara? You're girlfriend?" he asked sarcastically, blowing out some smoke as he did so.

Willow blanched and her eyes widened. "Wh-what?"

Spike chuckled. "She is, isn't she? That's why you don't want them comin', huh?"

"Well, we're not--we've never--we're just friends, that's all."

"But . . . You've got feelings, don't you? Feelings you haven't felt for a girl before?"

Willow didn't say anything, but by the way her cheeks reddened, he knew she was right.

"Look, luv, there's nothin' wrong with a little girl-on-girl action. And if you wanna keep it secret, then go right on, keepin' it secret, but I'm sure that they're not gonna hold it against you. If they're really your friends, they won't care. Unless she's abusive or some other such nonsense, which I'm sure you have enough sense to avoid, yeah?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, scuffing the ground with her toe. "It's just . . . Well, I mean, neither of us have, you know . . . said anything about it, but I can feel it, you know? It's like . . . well, it's like magic. And I just . . . I don't want them perverting it, you know, or turning it into some college experimental psychobabble thingy just 'cause this is the only girl I've ever, um, felt this way towards. And I knew you wouldn't, um . . ."

"Pervert it? Luv, if you could see what I was thinking, trust me, you wouldn't accuse me of such modesty."

"You know what I mean. You wouldn't try and turn it into some . . . experiment. You'd accept it, like, you know, at face value. I mean, you were always pretty good with relationship stuff and feelings."

Spike choked on the smoke he breathed into his lungs and stopped walking. He coughed a few times and glared at her. "What?"

"I just meant, you know, you loved Drusilla, and, um, you were with her for a long time. And you're not gonna try and make me feel guilty for, you know, having a friend outside of the group."

"That better be what you meant, 'cause I'm evil, and not a bloody psychologist."

"Right. Of course. I didn't meant to make you out to be a good guy. I meant it purely in an evil sadistic way."

"Damn right you did," he grumbled. "So, what, you two havin' a date at the Bronze?"

"Well, it's more of a friendly get-together, but, um, yeah. I just, uh, well . . . I do _like_ her, you know? And I just kinda wanted to get that off my chest. And I'm sure you wanted to get out of the uber-hostility-ness of Giles's place."

"Speaking of perversion of friendships," he muttered.

"Well, you kinda gotta see their point though, Spike. You kinda have a history of killing slayers."

"I kinda have a history of chips being shoved up my skull, too. And unless Toy Soldiers Incorporated wants to take it out, it'll probably be in there for a long bloody while. Don't get me wrong, I'd have no qualms whatsoever about tearin' into the lot of you, but that's not what me training Kathryn is about. I mean, I wouldn't consider her a friend or anythin', I don't even think she likes me, but . . . Well, it's sorta like with you and Tara, innit? Wanna talk to someone outside your group. No offence, luv, but I can't really stand the lot of you. Well, you're not too bad."

"Aww, thanks," she said, elbowing him gently.

"I'd still kill you," he told her quickly, wanting to prevent her from getting any ideas in that pretty red head of hers.

"Wouldn't expect anything else. But, um, you do know that eventually she is gonna find out about you being a vampire, right?"

"Well, yeah, but the point is to make that a long time from now."

"It might just piss her off more knowing that you kept it from her instead of telling her."

"And then I'll just have to find someone else to talk to. It's not like I really care about her or anything," he explained reasonably.

"You might start to, though."

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. Kathryn was just a slayer he liked to talk to because she didn't look at him with disgust. If she died or found out and stopped talking with him, it would be annoying, but it wasn't like he particularly cared for her.

"Well, looks like we're here. So, uh, see you later, then?"

Spike shrugged and walked in after Willow (kindly) paid his cover charge, something none of the other Scoobs would ever do, and it was a bit unnecessary since he'd discovered the trick of sneaking in through the back a long time ago, but hey, who was he to deny someone paying for him? Not like he cared if she wasted cash or not.

"Spike!" someone called from somewhere to his left. First of all, the voice was vaguely familiar which meant the person obviously did know him. Second, the voice was male, so that meant he couldn't get a shag out of it. Well, that just put a damper on the whole situation of someone recognizing him, then. At least it wasn't one of the Scoobs.

He turned to look in the direction of the voice and groaned. It was Kyle, who was pushing through the crowd to come and greet him. "What do you want?" he asked, not even bothering to sound polite with the wanker.

"Nothing, I just . . . recognized you, is all. I've got Kathryn with me. I'm taking her out, you know, since today is her rest day or whatever."

"You're being less of a prat than usual."

"I'm only a dick to you because you're a vampire, and you know it, too. You think I don't know who you are or what you've done? Trust me, I don't exactly love the fact you're hanging around my sister constantly. But the fact is, you can't hurt her because of the chip, and for some reason known only to you, you're helping her train. You've killed slayers before, you should know more than anyone what they should do to prevent being killed, so way I see it, you're doing her a favour. Plus, she likes you."

"She does?" Spike asked, feeling a little impressed. She didn't seem to like him anymore than she had a few days ago. "Hmm."

"I still hate you, though. But you're not hurting her, and it's not about me. It's about her feeling safe, and being the best she can be in order to survive, so . . . Would you like to join us?"

"Only if you're paying."

With a sigh, Kyle gestured towards the table with his head, and Spike followed him. When he made it to the table, Kathryn's brown eyes met his and they lit up with her smile. "Spike! Hey! Wasn't expecting to see you today."

"Well, I'm full of surprises," he remarked as he sat on his chair, smiling briefly at her. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

"Rupert doesn't want me to come over, does he? 'Cause today was my rest day."

"Nah, just happened to be at the Bronze, completely by coincidence. And despite what Summers says, coincidences do happen."

"But leprechauns still don't," Kathryn added with a smile.

Spike chuckled at her small joke, then realized just how different she looked at the moment compared to how she did during training. Normally she looked haggard and worn, with her hair damp with sweat and frizzy with untamed curls. She never wore makeup and the clothes she wore were normally baggy, probably because it was more comforting than wearing anything else. All in all, she didn't look very outstanding.

But today she had on a nice red V-necked shirt with long sleeves and dark blue jeans. She even had makeup on, and her hair was curled, probably with a hot iron of some sort. It was smart of her to wear long sleeves because with all the blocking and hitting the day before during training, she was bound to have bruises.

"Huh?"

Kathryn tore her eyes away from Spike's to look at Kyle. "Oh, it's nothing. Somehow leprechauns got brought up, and she was telling us that they were probably the only thing that didn't exist, along with coincidences."

"Oh. So, Buffy huh? Cool. She, uh, still single?"

"She's got a Boy Scout trailin' after her at the moment, so no such luck mate."

"Well, that's a shame," Kyle muttered while shrugging his shoulders.

"Wait until you actually meet her before sayin' that. That might actually be a bloody blessing."

"You just don't like her because she's a slayer," Kyle pointed out reasonably.

"So what? Kathryn here's a slayer and I like her. She's not a bitch. Bein' a slayer doesn't give Her Highness any bloody excuse to tread on her friends like they're her bloody pavement. You know Willow, yeah? Well, Buffy's such a perfect friend that she would rather tell me some of her problems than Summers--what does that tell you?"

"What does her being a slayer have anything to do with him liking her anyway? I thought you were over the whole 'Spike is a chipped vampire' thing. Government agencies that put chips in demons' heads is a little far-fetched, you have to agree there, Kyle."

"Excuse me for getting him mixed up with a vampire of the same name. Wouldn't be the first time I've done it," Kyle mumbled, glancing briefly at Spike. "Besides, what comes easily for Buffy, Spike here has to work for it. I can see where there might be some hatred stemming from that, can't you?"

"What's up with Willow? Everything okay?" Kathryn asked, ignoring her brother, which Spike got the feeling happened quite a bit.

"Bit of a secret. Hope you don't mind me keepin' it that way, yeah? Red was there for me a few times when no one else was, as bloody corny as that sounds, an' she didn't go blabbin' my pain to everyone, so I'm gonna show her the same respect."

"Did I catch some genuine concern there?" Kyle asked.

"As hard as it may be to believe it, yeah, it was."

"I think I may die of shock--you, _liking_ one of Buffy's group."

Spike pointed at Kyle. "Hey, I didn't say a thing about liking anyone. I'm just saying that out of all of them, she's the one I hate the least, yeah?"

Kyle sniggered, then lifted up both of his hands. "Okay, whatever you say."

"I think that's really cool of you. You know, not spilling her secrets even though you don't like her. Although I find her likable enough. Well, from what I've seen of her. She isn't really around a lot. She's a witch, right? Like she can make stuff float."

"All right, so I might like her. A little. But yeah, she can make stuff float. Isn't that just fabulous?" He rolled his eyes. "She can also make me an' Buffy wanna get married an' spend the better part of a day snogging, so it's probably best to keep her on the less-dramatic things that don't require a lot of focus."

Despite the fact Spike found the very idea of kissing Buffy disgusting, Kyle and Kathryn both started laughing, although Kyle laughed harder than Kathryn, seeing as he understood a bit more about the situation than she did.

"I would have paid to see that," Kyle managed through his laughter.

"Oh sod off, both of you."

* * *

It was odd, walking into their house with Kyle beside them. They were getting home a bit earlier than normal, probably because she had school in the morning and she had already taken two days off and Spike remembered her mentioning something about her dad being displeased about it.

Having Kyle not glare at him and threaten his existence was so odd, that he should've known that he wouldn't be able to make it throughout the whole evening without taking him aside.

As soon as Kathryn walked inside, Kyle grabbed Spike's arm and pulled him away from the door so that he couldn't go in. "Look, Spike," Kyle said, keeping his voice low, eyeing the door so as to make sure Kathryn didn't walk out. "I know what you did."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fascinating."

"No, I meant something specific."

"Killing two slayers? Look, I'm not gonna touch her, all right? Not unless this chip comes out, and trust me, you wouldn't be able to stop me if it did. And I'd be more focused on Summers anyway."

"No, I meant--" He looked at the door, and stepped closer. "Look, you killed my mom."

Spike opened his mouth to say something witty, then he furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Kyle's hazel eyes darkened. "You killed my mom and my sister. Drusilla tortured me for a bit, then when Kathryn came out 'cause she heard my screams . . . She dropped me and headed straight for her."

Spike frantically searched his memory, but the fact was, he'd killed loads of people and he couldn't really remember all of them. He knew that if he thought about it for awhile he'd probably remember, but at the moment, he couldn't.

"What do you want me to say, then? I'm a vampire, and not a soul-having pouf like _some_ of them. You expect me to feel sorry over yours just 'cause they're yours? Sorry, mate, but it's not goin' to happen."

Kyle sighed exasperatedly, then shook his head. "That's not what I wanted from you. I can't expect you to feel sorry over one victim but not the other--you don't even have a soul. I'm just telling you what you probably forgot. I can't guarantee she won't ever remember, Spike. But it's not my place to tell her. One of these days she's going to find out you're a vampire, and you're gonna have to explain it. It's not on my shoulders, it's on yours, got it?"

"Got it. Not like I want you handling my business anyway."

Kyle let go of Spike arm, then nodded. "Way I see it, it's your problem, not mine. You wanna keep it a secret? Fine. Then you're the one who will punished for it. Don't expect me to be the messenger, and don't expect me to try and get her to like you again when she finds out."

Spike scoffed. "Fine, it's not even a big deal. Don't really even like her much in the first place."

"Then why do you keep talking with her?"

Spike scoffed. "Look, mate, when you're surrounded by people who hate you and you find someone who doesn't, let's see how often you find a reason to chat them up. I don't really like her."

"You do like her, Spike. Because if you didn't it wouldn't matter if she liked you or not. Keep telling yourself that, and when she finds out and you're hurt because she hates you, try and tell yourself it was just to have someone to talk to you then."

Spike rolled his eyes. He was a vampire for God's sake. Kyle was a vamp-hating prat who was obsessed with demons--why on earth would he think Spike actually cared? Loving Drusilla was something different--Drusilla was his ripe plum, not to mention a vampire as well. Spike had known Kathryn for a week, tops, and suddenly everybody thought he was going to magically fall in love with her at some time in the future. Did they all forget that she was a slayer and didn't really like him very much? Yeah, she was nice, and it was easy to like her, but did they forget that he only sought her out because she didn't treat him horribly?

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, then strolled past him and into the house.

"And who are you?" came an unfamiliar voice.

Spike looked at a man who was obviously Kyle and Kathryn's father. He could see the resemblance. Plus, why else would there be a forty-something man standing in their living room? "I'm Spike. Friend of Kathryn's."

Spike thought he looked familiar, and figured it must have been because he'd come bursting in and prevented Drusilla from tearing out Kathryn's throat. Now that Spike thought about it, he had a clear image of Drusilla holding up a little girl and biting her neck and the man before him pushing her away. He remembered the only reason they left was because they'd heard the sirens, and Spike hadn't really fancied getting a chest full of lead. Again.

Their father looked him over, and for a moment Spike thought he was going to piece together who he was, which would have been extremely awkward, but then he just shrugged. "I've heard a bit about you. Nice to have a face to the name. We met before?"

Spike hastily shook his head. "Not that I remember."

"Hmm. So, you gonna stay awhile? Kathryn's got school in the morning, but she's old enough to have sleepovers on school nights. With a man who is obviously older than her." Beneath the innuendo there was a threat in his tone.

"We're not dating," he promised. The man raised an eyebrow, and suddenly Spike didn't feel much like staying any longer. Even though he didn't seem to recognize him at the moment, there was no telling if he would later on if he stayed. Spike didn't really think staying in his watchful attention for very long was a good idea. "And I was about to head off, actually, so I suppose that would be a no then."

Their father nodded. "Need a ride or anything?"

"Nah, don't live far from here. Hope I get to see ya soon, then."

"You sure you can't stay for a beer?"

Spike weighed his chances. If he was too pushy about leaving, that might make it obvious he didn't want to be near their father, which might only make him more suspicious. Plus, he'd get a free beer out of it. "Yeah, why not? I'm not driving."

Their father looked him over and started over to the kitchen, leading Spike. Kyle was giving him a dirty look, and Spike found himself wondering if perhaps drinking with someone whose life he had ruined wasn't such a great idea.

* * *

Four beers, three pints of Crown Royale mixed with Coke, and two hours later, Spike found himself sitting in Kyle's car, laughing at the fact he'd banged his head on the way in. His head throbbed slightly and stung in the middle of the throbbing, but it wasn't too painful.

Spike was still humming "Bohemian Rhapsody" and to be honest, staying had been worth it just to see Kathryn sing along and rock out to it with him, her father, and her brother. Now he couldn't get the song stuck out of his head, but at least her dad hadn't recognized him as the murderer of his wife and daughter.

"I can't believe my dad actually liked you," Kyle mumbled.

"Oh, get over it, pouf, we all had a laugh," he grumbled. Kyle didn't seem to appreciate Spike's enjoyment.

Kyle was even less amused at Spike drumming on the dashboard and vocally butchering Queen's masterpiece.

* * *

A/N--If you haven't heard Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, you are a blaspheming sinner. God will smite thee. Listen to it. You don't have to like it, but you must listen to it. That is an order.


	9. Chapter 9

The next week for Kathryn went on for far too long. Training wasn't any more fun than it had been previously, but at least she was getting better at it. Although she wasn't quite as good as she wanted to be, she couldn't deny that she was learning a bit faster than she had expected. Perhaps it was because of the urgency of her situation, or maybe it was because of the slayer genes, but she was catching on quickly. Was she good enough for the test? Definitely not. Would she ever be, though? Although it was a question nobody wanted to ask, she knew that the answer was doubtful. There were slayers trained years longer than her who couldn't pass the test. As much as she tried to ignore the horrible fear that loomed over her shoulder.

Despite the fact her muscles were often sore and it felt like something was stabbing her sides and lungs with a flaming poker, she didn't hate it as much as she thought. After the first few days, the training wasn't as painful as it had been. Of course she didn't love it, but it wasn't as bad as it had been a week ago, when she first started.

She had even lost weight and toned up a bit, already. It wasn't anything extremely noticeable, but she could see it--she could feel it.

She was currently sparring with Buffy. Although it was tiring and hard, it wasn't nearly as fast-paced or brutal as it was with Spike. Buffy seemed more intent on going through the motions with her, explaining every move, rather than forcing her to do it. She wasn't sure which she liked more--Buffy's descriptive and step-by-step way, or Spike's swim-or-drown approach. She liked Buffy's because she could understand it more and it wasn't as hard, but she liked Spike's because she was forced to use it quicker, which she thought was more realistic. However, Buffy's was a bit boring and gave her more of a chance to think through her actions so it wasn't nearly as instinctive, but at the same time, Spike's approach made it harder for her to grasp each move precisely.

"Keep on your toes. Don't settle for one spot so easily--you have to be able to get up and run, move quickly, get on higher ground if possible. It's all about instinct, Kathryn. Vampires are abnormally fast and strong, and they don't tire easily. If you can't move quickly, you're screwed."

"The Ali approach to the subject, as opposed to the Foreman. Although, you gotta admit, Foreman is currently gaining cash with grills, and Ali's got shaken baby syndrome, so maybe not the best analogy ever," Xander suggested.

"I like Foreman's grills," his girlfriend, Anya, added pointlessly.

"Me too. As I'm sure we all can see for ourselves." He patted his stomach.

The chains of the swing squeaked as Willow, Xander, and Anya swung gently, which was mildly distracting since Kathryn was trying to train.

Spike tossed a cigarette through the air, the red ember leaving faint, brief trails in the sky. "Actually, luv, you gotta take the Mike Tyson approach. Fight dirty. Even if Tyson lost that fight, nobody remembers Holyfield."

"Thank you, Spike," Buffy spat, glaring at him as she knocked aside one of Kathryn's fists.

"What? It's the truth. Bite the vampire's ear off. Fight dirty. It's kill or be killed; do you honestly think playing fair is gonna help any? They certainly won't be."

"Once again, Spike is actually making sense. But I guess he would know all about fighting dirty."

"And once again Harris is stating the obvious, but thank you."

"Well, it's about time you take over anyway, why don't you teach her all there is to know about fighting dirty while I go off and do my job?"

Spike gave her a mock salute while she strolled off, Willow, Anya, and Xander following.

Kathryn bent over and put her hands on her knees. She was a little winded, although not nearly as she could have been, and most likely would be after Spike was finished with her. She stood back up properly. "What are we working on today, then?"

"I was thinking about sparring."

She nodded and got into a defensive position. "All right."

"I'm a vampire," he said, blinking at her.

"Okay." She charged at him and he ducked underneath her punch. She jumped back before he could retaliate. He was staring at her with a strangely impressed expression. "But next time, I wanna try being the vampire. You see how hard it is to keep track of an invisible stake."

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but then he shook his head and chuckled. "Yeah, all right. Next time you can be the vampire. And we would use a real stake, but, well, imagining all the ways that can go wrong."

Kathryn chuckled then jumped over the foot meant to trip her.

* * *

Spike didn't know why he wanted to tell her. Really there was no reason why he should want to. In fact the whole reason he even liked talking to her was because she didn't know, so why the hell had he blurted that out? He hadn't known her very long so it wasn't liked her owed her anything. He didn't owe anybody anything.

He would say that maybe it came from guilt if Spike actually felt guilty, but seeing as he didn't that couldn't be the excuse for it. After he'd thought about it for a moment, he was able to recall going into her house and killing her family. He remembered asking to use the phone and how he and Drusilla wrecked havoc on the house torturing the mother and Kyle. He remembered just how sweet the Kathryn's sister tasted in his mouth as they fed of the child simultaneously. He remembered how Kyle had tried to fight them off to protect his mum and how they'd batted him away. He remembered how much he screamed when Drusilla played with him, using her nails to slice into his skin, making shallow cuts, licking the blood off of his tiny, ten-year-old frame. He remembered butchering Kathryn's mother and laughing about it. And he remembered the little five-year-old girl tottering into the living room tiredly, who he knew must have been Kathryn. It was so long ago and she was so young he wouldn't have made the connection without Kyle making it for him--but it was true. She had the same scent and the same brown eyes. But he didn't feel guilty over almost killing her--why on earth would he? What made her more special than any other victim he'd ever had? Just 'cause he didn't hate the girl years later didn't mean he felt guilty because he'd almost done what vampires do to her.

Spike had felt guilty over things before (like snapping at Drusilla when she didn't deserve it or some other such thing) so he knew that wasn't why he felt the urge to tell her, even if the urge had only been brief. So what the hell was it then?

Spike shoved the thoughts away into the back of his mind as he sparred with Kathryn. It had been awhile since he'd been able to throw punches at a living being, so even if he couldn't actually intend to hurt her (although sometimes he accidentally did intend, which meant his chip would go off but she never seemed to notice) he enjoyed it. He almost swelled with pride every time she managed to get him across the jaw and slam a fist into his gut. He enjoyed how she laughed along with him or how they gently insulted each other and how she improved. It must be part of being a slayer, being able to improve so quickly. Or maybe that was just human instinct to protect oneself from death. Spike didn't know, but it almost made him grin when he thought about it.

Of course, a part of him rebelled against what he was doing. He was training a slayer, after all, to kill vampires. Which he was. So basically he was teaching her to kill him. If it ever came down to it, he knew he'd win, chip or not, but that wasn't the issue--the issue was that every bloody cell in his body was telling him to stop helping her. It was his instinct to tear open her throat, not only because she was a human girl but a slayer. And he knew by the fire in her eyes and by the way she often got carried away with herself and actually started to attack him like she was trying to ram a stake in his heart that instinct was fuelling her too--hence the reason he never allowed her to hold an actual stake when fighting him. He couldn't use his natural weapon why the bloody hell would he allow her to use a stake?

Despite the fact part of him wanted to kill the bitch to add another notch on his belt, most of him enjoyed it, and so he just told himself the reason for his irrational blurting came from that. It didn't make any sense, but it was the only thing he could think of, so that would have to do until he could figure it out. The fact was, he had fun with Kathryn. He enjoyed spending time with her. So he wasn't about to jeopardize that by blabbing out the fact he was a vampire. He knew she would find out, but that could be in a long time so why would he want that time to come sooner? He would just have to keep his mouth shut.

They were both chuckling as he swung at her. She swerved out of the way each time, then ducked underneath one and swung at him. Spike blocked the first punch with his arm then the other fist that came flying through the air and towards his face. He squeezed her fist and then spun her so that her back was against his chest, and then he held her arms tightly against her abdomen.

She let out a high-pitched squeal but started laughing right after and he chuckled deeply while he spun her. She kicked her legs out in an attempt to knock him off balance but laughed harder as he kept spinning her. Her curly, slightly damp-from-sweat hair tickled his face and he moved his head aside so that it wouldn't get caught in his mouth.

Still laughing he settled her down on her feet but held her against his chest so that she couldn't break away. "You know that I have to bite you, right?" he growled into her hair, smirking.

"No! Come on! Come on, let's just go again."

"Why, so you can say you won on a technicality? 'Oh haha I still win 'cause you didn't bite me,'" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"No! Don't!"

He bent down and started chewing on her neck quickly, making little growling noises, like he would with a child (one he was playing with, not actually eating.) She let out a loud string of giggles and tried to fight him off by pulling on his arms and trying to pull her head away. "All right, okay, you win!" she surrendered through her laughter.

Spike spun her out like he would if they were dancing and grinned cheekily at her. "About bloody time."

She let go off his hands and scoffed as if annoyed, but she was still grinning. "That tickled, asshole."

"Next time I'll bite harder then," he threatened good-naturedly. Even though they were mortal enemies (not that she was aware of that) he couldn't deny that they did have fun. He could barely believe how childish he'd just acted, but he hadn't been able to have fun for quite a long time.

"You'll have to win first," she said, which wasn't very threatening at all since he always won anyway. He knew he shouldn't feel content at the fact he always won since that meant she wasn't winning and her survival was actually the point of the training, but he couldn't help it. "Off home then, or more training?"

"Prob'ly home. You look knackered."

She shrugged but he could see the relief in her eyes. He didn't mind walking her home. The few times he'd seen her dad in the past week, sometimes right before work or sometimes if he stayed late enough to see him as he came home from work, they'd gotten along. Her dad always offered him a beer, and other than the first time he'd gotten completely smashed, they'd gotten drunk again and had attempted to play poker. Spike had cleaned him out, obviously--Spike was a cheater. A good one at that, seeing as he hadn't been caught.

They both started walking, Kathryn bending over and rubbing her thighs briefly every so often. She was wearing black sweats today with a grey t-shirt that was too large for her. She tossed her messy, curly hair away from her brown eyes, and he frowned. It was so odd how much she had grown since the first time he'd seen her. It was so strange to think that had her father been just a few seconds later, she wouldn't be standing before him now and Kendra wouldn't have been the only slayer Drusilla had killed. It was both a shame and a blessing, he supposed. Dru didn't have another slayer on her list but at the same time Spike wasn't bored to tears with the Scoobs, so . . .

"I don't know how Buffy does this," Kathryn murmured. "I mean, my muscles are constantly sore, plus I have to go to school after hours of training . . . And I haven't even . . . slew a vampire yet. It is slew, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I woulda said slayed." She furrowed her eyebrows and stood upright, apparently lost in thought. "You'll get your chance to slay, luv. Don't worry. Not really that hard. Stake through the chest. Simple."

"Yes. Simple. If you take out the fact they all somehow inherit martial arts when sired. And they're, you know, trying their hardest to kill and maim me."

"Yeah, well, you're trying to kill them too, you know. So it's not like it isn't fair," he found himself defending although he knew that he probably shouldn't.

"I guess, yeah. But it's not like they're good or anything. They're soulless and stuff. So it's not like they actually love and fear things. That's what Rupert said."

"Yes, what _Rupert _said," he repeated, snarling slightly. What did these humans know about vampires? They had no idea just how much he could love and hate and fear. "A life without love. There wouldn't be a point to living forever without the ability."

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. I've never, uh . . . been in love. Romantically. I mean, I've had crushes on people, but . . ." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Spike? Can I ask you something?"

"All right."

"You loved Drusilla and she broke your heart."

Spike glared at her. It wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about.

She seemed to catch onto his displeasure. "Sorry. But I mean . . . even though she pissed you off and cheated on you with that soul-having vampire guy, you still wanted to be with her. You still wanted her to stay with you and you forgave her even though she really hurt you."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"I don't know, I just . . . I mean, in high school, it's like people break up over one argument. I knew a girl who said that if a couple ever argued over something and the man ever yelled at her than they didn't love each other, and I just thought what she said was stupid, is all. I mean, even if you love someone, you're going to fight, right?"

"Well, yeah. Just 'cause you love someone doesn't mean you agree on everything. Tell that cow that she better pull her head out of the clouds if she ever wants a real relationship."

"I know that. It's just . . . so different seeing that sort of high school love and compare it to how you talk about Drusilla. I mean . . . I like it. I'm sure it's probably not healthy but . . . I don't know, it's just different from what I'm used to. Actually forgiving the person you're with, even for stuff you probably shouldn't forgive them for."

"What's brought this on? You think you're in love or somethin'?"

"No. I was . . . I was just thinking about how Buffy and them don't really like you and how lonely that must be for you. I mean, they act like you're some . . . mass murdering psycho but I mean you can't be that bad, you really can't deserve that--the way you treat me and how you talk about Dru . . . I don't know. I just feel bad for you I guess."

Spike frowned a little. "I thought you didn't like me?"

"What? No, I said I didn't like you at first."

"Do you like me now? You don't have to lie."

She shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I don't really know you, I wouldn't, say, lend you money or anything, but . . . I don't know. This is going to sound really weird, but it's like . . . you make me . . . anxious."

Spike grinned. "I do? Well, now, I'm flattered."

"Not in the crush way. You know how when you like someone and they're near you or when someone attractive is flirting with you? Not that kind of anxious."

"Well thanks for getting my hopes up," he said, elbowing her gently.

She chuckled and shook her head. "I sound like a bitch. Sorry. But . . . It's more like . . . Okay, if you're walking down an alley, and a guy in a white tank top is walking towards you, and it's night, you'd probably get anxious, but if it were day and you weren't in alley, you probably wouldn't notice. I mean that type of anxious."

Spike understood why she felt that way, but he wasn't about to clue her in on why.

Apparently she thought he was offended because he couldn't think of anything to say, because then she sighed and put her hand against her forehead. "I didn't mean to sound bitchy if I did," she muttered, lowering her hand. "I've only known you for two weeks, and the first time I met you, you were chained to a tub and then you wanted to steal stuff, so you really can't blame me. I mean, I like you, I do, but . . . Still, anxious, you know?"

"No, no, I don't mind. You make me anxious too--it's perfectly normal," he muttered, realizing that he suddenly did feel a little offended, not to mention cautious. It wasn't like he wanted her piecing together why she felt that way. Not so soon, anyway.

"Anxious how?"

"How do you want it to be?" he responded flirtatiously, raising his scarred eyebrow at her briefly.

She laughed and nudged him with her elbow. "If it makes you feel any better, I'd rather be with you than anyone else."

For some reason that sentence affected him more than it should have. It did something to his chest. He could feel a sudden pressure there and it swelled briefly. He smiled a bit. Even if she was anxious around him, she liked him. She had said as much, but for some reason her light-hearted statement about wanting to be with him made him feel better than he had in awhile.

"I mean it, you know. I like being around you, even if you make me anxious."

Spike grinned even more, and he looked down at the ground, noticing that they were walking slower than normal. "Yeah, well . . ." he mumbled, not really knowing what to say. She was being genuinely nice to him, and that had happened for a lot longer than he had thought.

He had the insane urge to tell her he was a vampire again, but he quelled it quickly.

"Is Spike your real name?"

"What? No. Who names their kid Spike?"

"Mr. And Mrs. Lee, maybe?"

Spike chuckled again. "My name is William."

"Oh." He looked at her and noticed that she was looking him over, her brown eyes taking in every detail, apparently, since she was quiet for a few moments. He liked the fact she was checking him out so openly, although he didn't understand it. Normally girls tried to be discreet about that sort of thing. "Spike fits you better," she noted quietly after a few seconds of checking him out.

"Hence the name change."

"Do your parents mind?"

"My parents died a long time ago."

"Oh . . . vampires?" she inquired tentatively. He understood why she made the assumption--she thought he was some vampire hunter.

Spike nodded his head. "Yeah. Angelus."

"Oh . . . And Drusilla still went out with him?"

"Yeah, well . . . Girls like that sort of thing, I s'pose. Tall, dark, and mysterious, big ol' caveman brow to go along with it, too. 'Sides, he's got a soul now, doesn't he?"

"Still, that's gotta sting a bit."

"Yeah, well, stung more than it would have with anyone else. She's not with him anymore, though. She's off with some . . . hideous guy," he edited slightly, not really wanting her to piece together anything out of the ordinary. "Came crawling back to her several times, but she never . . . I s'pose sometimes things just don't work, no matter how much you want 'em to. No matter how much you do for the selfish bint." He narrowed his eyes and scowled slightly and the memory of her snogging a Chaos demon, and then later snogging one entirely made up of fungus. It wasn't exactly a memory he treasured.

He felt slight pressure on his hand, and he realized she'd squeezed his palm briefly, probably as a comforting gesture. Even after she let go of his hand it felt warm.

"Tell me about Drusilla," she suggested, stepping closer to him.

He felt strange. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was actually quite nice. The only people he'd talked about Drusilla to recently had been Willow and Joyce. He'd mentioned Drusilla in passing to Harmony simply because she wouldn't stop nagging. So with a small smile, he turned to her, and started to talk.

* * *

Kathryn had the feeling that Spike had been wanting to get the subject of Drusilla off of his chest. He talked about how beautiful she was, about how she glided more than she walked, and about how she could stare at the stars and seeing everything but stars in them. Hearing him talk about Drusilla reminded her a bit of how her dad talked about her mom every now and then, but Spike was far more talkative apparently.

She loved hearing about it. He talked about how he used to hold her for hours when she was sick, just brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her bruises because she said that made her feel better. He talked about how much she had hurt him when she'd left him for some hideous guy in Brazil, and how he came back to her several times giving her everything she wanted but she denied him anyway, and how empty and alone he felt without her. He mentioned something about how he'd been in a wheelchair for awhile and that he'd been forced to watch her slowly leave him and fall into the arms of Angelus.

Even though he said she was a bit crazy, she was fully aware and conscious of her decisions. He told her about how he tried to tell himself far longer than he should've that she didn't know what she was doing even though she obviously did. She didn't quite understand what he meant when he said she wasn't "quite there" but he never said it with disrespect, only fondness.

She liked hearing about it. With the exception of the few, very brief, conversations she'd had with her dad about her mother, she'd never heard anything like it before. She'd never heard anything so intense and real before.

She found herself in front of her house a lot sooner than she had expected. They stood in front of her door, with her shifting on the spot a bit awkwardly. "Sorry about blabbin' on," he mumbled, staring at the door as if he hadn't realized they were at her house until that very moment.

"No, it's fine. It was nice."

He nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Tomorrow's a rest day, then? Aren't you glad?"

"Oh, yeah. I think I'm going to start really loving Sundays."

"So, uh . . . You doing anything?"

"No, nothing. Why?" she asked, getting the feeling he wanted to do something with her by the way he was looking at everything except her.

He shrugged. "No reason, just askin'."

He was going to make her ask, wasn't he? What a dick. Judging by the impish gleam in his eye and the evil smirk on his face, he wasn't being coy at all, but making her take a step forward, probably because he knew she was anxious around him. She shouldn't have told him that, now he was just going to mock her like he was at the moment. "Did you want to hang out or something?" she asked.

"Yeah, all right," he said casually, then looked her over openly. He took a large step closer to her, only a few inches in front of her face. "Still anxious in a bad way, luv?" he inquired in a low and quiet voice, staring down at her through his lashes.

Even though she certainly was anxious--her heart was thudding a lot harder than it normally did--she wasn't about to admit it. "I'm not the one acting all shy," she pointed out, but her nervousness made her throat dry so it came out a little raspy and it cracked a little.

He tilted his head slowly and stuck out his bottom lip. His eyes found hers and locked her gaze so that she couldn't look away from him. Her heart leapt into her throat for some reason. Spike had flirted with her a few times before, although briefly, and every time it made her nervous. She just wasn't accustomed to his lack of subtlety.

He leaned forward slightly and she tensed, wondering if he was going to kiss, and not sure if she was opposed to the idea.

"See you tomorrow then," he promised, then strolled off.

She watched him leave for a moment, then shook her head and took a few long breaths before entering her house. Even though she was trying to tell herself she was nonchalant about his behaviour, she couldn't wipe the grin off of her face.

* * *

A/N--Thank you so much for your reviews, they have helped a lot. Anyway, don't be shy people, tell me what you think, good or bad.

This is, like, page 62 of the fanfic itself, and I have 165 pages written, so don't be afraid of me like abandoning it.

So, poppets . . . Mike Tyson, huh? George Foreman? Did you know that George Foreman lost like ONE fight? Yeah. But, apparently, Ali is the better fighter, despite the fact he's lost more than one. And really, does ANYONE remember Holyfield? I'll give whoever can tell me his first name a special metaphorical prize.

Go watch Rocky. I have no idea why I told you to do that. It has nothing to do with Buffy or my fic whatsoever, but do it. Tell me what you think. Or not. Whatever.


	10. Chapter 10

Spike awoke with a choking cough and he sat up quickly; "No more bananas!" he mumbled loudly, the haziness of his dream still incapacitating his ability to prevent ludicrous statements from blurting out against his will.

"Feeling all right?" Giles asked, clearly amused. One eyebrow was raised high than the other and he was half-smiling.

"Sod off, Rupes," he grumbled, swinging his legs off of the couch. Giles was picking up an empty beer can and an empty mug that had been full of blood that Spike had kindly left littering the coffee table. "I was gonna pick it up."

"I have no doubt in my mind that you were," Giles said in a way that let Spike know that he really didn't believe it. Giles had good reason to--Spike really hadn't had any intention of picking it up at all.

Spike watched as Giles walked over to the kitchen. "What time is it?"

"Nearly dusk." He heard the mug clink against the porcelain of the sink. "I called Kathryn."

"What for? Today's Sunday."

"You do recall telling me you had plans to 'hang out' with her today, yes?"

Spike nodded. "Well, yeah. Had to tell you, didn't I? You lot don't take kindly to me having a life outside of you all."

"I simply told her you would not be able to meet her until later in the evening. Unless you had plans of meeting her sometime in the afternoon, in the sunlight?" he inquired, a light sarcasm colouring his tone.

Spike scoffed and stood up from the couch. "It's not a date, Rupes, if that's what you think." He glanced out and saw that the sun was hanging close enough to the horizon for him to be able to start walking. He went over to the door and grabbed his duster from off of the coat hanger.

"Spike," Giles said a bit forcefully.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. He recognized the wanker's lecture tone anywhere. He turned towards the kitchen while he slid his arms into his jacket smoothly. "What?"

"Be careful with this." He folded his arms and glared at Spike purposefully.

"I'm not gonna hurt her, all right? I've got a chip up my skull, in case you've forgotten. Can't even think about hittin' the girl without a migraine from hell, so quit your bloody whining," he snapped. It was getting ridiculous. How often did he have to remind them about his little handicap?

"That isn't what I'm talking about," Giles said casually, leaning against the counter next to the fridge. Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "There is more than one way to hurt somebody, Spike."

They both stared at each other for a moment in silence.

"She trusts you, more so than any of us. It's quite obvious. And you can't deny you've taken a liking to her as well."

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so? She's a nice chit. You all like her too. I've known her two weeks, Rupes, if you're suggesting I'm in love with her, then perhaps--"

"You don't have to be in love to care for someone. And in less than two weeks, she might very well be dead. We cannot refuse to accept that possibility--despite all of our training, she might fail the test. You do understand?"

Spike nodded slowly.

"I nearly lost Buffy. I was unable to do what . . . what I had to, and I lost my job for it. I will not allow myself to make the same mistake with Kathryn. We cannot prevent it from happening, Spike. She _will_ be tested. And perhaps . . . it would not bode well to become too attached?"

And suddenly, it made sense. Why Buffy hadn't been training her nearly as much as Giles or Spike had. Why Willow and Xander hadn't been by nearly as often as they usually were. It wasn't because they thought Spike and Giles the best to train her--but because none of them wanted to like her just for her to be offed in a few weeks. Even Buffy, who did train her, had seemed more standoffish than usual. Spike had actually been glad of the fact she hadn't been around as much as usual, but he hadn't once thought about why. None of them thought she was going to make it, no matter how much effort they were putting into her training.

"Giles . . . She'll make it. We won't let her die."

"Girls with far more training than her have failed, Spike. I can't let myself care for her, and perhaps you shouldn't either."

"I'm touched at your concern," Spike snapped, "but bugger off about it. I won't let her die."

"None of are _letting_ her die. We're putting forth as much effort as possible to get her ready. But if she does survive, what then, Spike? What of your relationship? You cannot possibly believe she won't figure out what you are. Are you prepared for the consequences of your lie?"

"As if I care if she finds out. So what? She's just a girl." Even Spike could hear the uncertainty in his voice and he realized that he trying to convince himself more than Giles.

"Spike," Giles warned.

Spike frowned. His chest ached briefly and he shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of her dying or possibly abandoning him when she found out the truth. "I don't know, Giles. I almost told her the other night, but . . ."

Giles nodded. "You were devastated after Drusilla left you. You understand my concern, yes?"

"You can't possibly compare Dru to her. I barely know Kathryn," Spike told him with an eyebrow raised. Yes, if Kathryn abandoned him because she found out or even if she died it would be horrible, but it was nothing compared to the pain he'd felt with Drusilla leaving him. Granted, death (permanent death) was more tragic than being dumped, but it was hardly in the same field at all. In fact, Spike honestly didn't understand how Giles could even bring up Drusilla at all in the conversation.

"Death of someone you care about is far worse than being left," Giles said quietly, his eyes leaving Spike's for the first time since the conversation. His voice took on a poignant tone, as if he was talking from experience.

"Yeah, all right." He really didn't feel like talking anymore. He pretty much got the point.

"If Drusilla were to die, Spike . . . How well do you think you would fare?"

"I get what you're saying, no need to drag it on," Spike muttered uncomfortably. "So do you mind if I take off now or do you have a St. Crispin's Day speech to follow it up with?"

Giles stopped looking at the kitchen floor, then nodded. "Go on. But remember what I said."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he left the house, shutting the door behind him, although he didn't feel nearly as nonchalant as he was acting.

* * *

Spike knocked on her door a few times, then lit up his cigarette, blowing the smoke out before he stuffed his lighter in one of his pockets. He waited for a few seconds longer, then knocked again, this time a bit more insistently.

The door opened and he grinned, but felt his grin falter when he saw her father on the other side. "Oh, hey Spike. Kathryn said you were coming over. She's just taking a shower, so . . . wanna come in?"

"Yeah." He stepped into the house and smiled at her father, breathing in the smoke from his newly lit cigarette.

"Care for a beer?"

Spike nodded and followed her dad into the kitchen but he didn't sit at the table, seeing as Kyle already was. "Kyle," he greeted tersely.

Kyle just nodded in greeting..

Their father handed him a beer and leaned against the counter in front of Spike, so that they were only standing a few feet apart. "So what are your intentions with my daughter?" he asked as Spike went to take a drink.

Spike's hand froze an inch from his mouth. Well, that had caught him off-guard. "We're not dating," he told him, then he finally took a sip of his beer, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

"You're not? Well, you certainly spend a lot of time together."

"As friends, yeah."

"As friends," her father repeated, as though he didn't really believe it. "Okay."

"If we were dating, I'd tell you. And I'm sure she would as well. Yeah, I'm a bit older than her, but she's eighteen, so why would we hide it?"

"And how old are you exactly?"

Spike took a drink so he could think for a moment. "Twenty-five."

"It's not that much older I suppose. Still, if at any time your . . . _friendship_ changes, I would really appreciate it if you told me."

"I will." He brought his cigarette to his mouth and breathed in the smoke, still staring right in his eyes. He blew out the smoke and flicked some ashes in Kyle's direction.

"Hey, Dad, has Spike called or--" Kathryn cut herself off when she stepped into the kitchen, her feet making a click against the linoleum.

Spike turned to look at her and smiled. Just like last Sunday, she wasn't wearing her baggy and plain workout clothes. Her hair was crimpy and was still damp, which was a nice change from the messy damp-from-sweat curls she usually had. She was wearing a pleated black knee-length skirt that swished and bounced when she moved, with black strappy sandals. The shirt she was wearing had black and white stripes across it that inappropriately reminded him of a cliché Frenchwoman. He really liked her makeup as well--shadowy around the eyes with glossy pale lips. It was just like how Drusilla used to wear her makeup.

It didn't go unnoticed that he had compared her to Drusilla, and he cursed Giles for saying all that nonsense earlier. Sure, Spike would have noticed the sartorial change even without Giles going on about his concerns since it was so different from how he usually saw her. Still, he doubted he would have compared her to Drusilla, even with the similar makeup.

Spike realized he was staring.

"Oh, er . . . hi, I made it," he said awkwardly. He probably looked stupid holding a smoke in one hand and a beer in another. He looked around and placed the beer bottle on the table beside Kyle, trying to ignore the fact that their father was looking at him with an eyebrow raised and a smug look on his face.

"So . . . Um, where we going?" she asked. She looked at her brother then at her father. "Or are we staying here?" Her smile faltered when she suggested that and her tone changed subtly. Apparently, not what she wanted to do.

"Uh, Bronze. Sound nice?"

"Yeah, sure!" she agreed a bit excitedly, acting like it was a spectacular place to be taken to despite the fact it really was the only place they could've gone anyway.

He turned towards her father and smiled. "Right. Well, we're off."

Her dad nodded. "Yeah, of course. Have fun." He stuck out his hand.

Spike reached forward and grabbed his hand and shook it, knowing his hand was cold from holding the beer. "We will," he promised.

Her father stopped shaking his hand, but held it tightly still. "Have we met before?"

Spike shook his head. "Not that I remember," he lied coolly.

Her father slowly pulled his hand away. "Hmm. Okay. Well, uh, you two have fun now."

* * *

Spike was being strange. Normally he was more talkative and gestured a lot. So far he'd been a little quiet and even when he did talk, he kept his hands in his pockets. Kathryn found herself talking just to fill the silence, which only made it awkward for some reason.

At least he'd taught her how to sneak into the Bronze from the back so neither of them had to pay. It was so easy she didn't know why people didn't always do it. Perhaps because they were afraid of being caught or they felt guilty. At least she didn't have to have an annoying stamp on her hand.

They sat at the table and Spike remained quiet for a moment or so.

"What's wrong?" Kathryn asked bluntly.

He blinked a few times, as if he'd been lost in his own thoughts and had forgotten he was actually doing something. "What? Oh, nothing. I'm fine." She raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. "It's just . . . Something Giles said."

"What did he say?"

Spike sighed, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He was wrong, anyhow. Just worried about you, is all."

"Oh . . . Like, he doesn't think I'm going to make it?" she asked hesitantly. He briefly met her eyes with his, then looked back at the table. He didn't have to say anything for her to realize that Giles didn't have very high hopes. "So what were you talking about with my dad?" she quickly changed the subject.

Spike sat up straighter and chuckled. "Oh, nothin', just wantin' to know what my intentions with you were."

Kathryn groaned and held her forehead with her hand. "Oh, God," she managed through her chuckles.

"Asked how old I was, if I wanted to shag you senseless, that sort of thing." He shrugged casually.

She laughed and shook her head. "Wait--how old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-five."

"That's not too much older than I am."

"That's what he said. Don't worry, though, luv, I already told him we weren't datin'; that we're just friends, that sort of thing."

Kathryn nodded and brushed off her striped shirt. She's spent longer than necessary getting ready. She didn't know why she wanted to look better than usual; it wasn't as if Spike hadn't ever seen her looking like crap before. In fact he normally saw her when she looked like crap. Of course she didn't want to go to the Bronze looking as she normally did around him, but she hadn't gotten dressed up for the Bronze. Had it been anyone else who had asked her she would have put on some light makeup and dressed casually. She wouldn't have spent an hour on her hair and makeup. She wasn't even the type of girl who normally cared about that sort of thing.

Kathryn looked up at him and noticed that he was openly staring at her, much like the first time he'd been in her house and she'd been checking out her newly-cut hair in the mirror. That time had been mocking, and maybe a little wary--this time was anything but that. It was an intense stare with a small half-smile. She suddenly felt a little self-conscious and stared down at the table, tapping on the wood with her index finger, trying to ignore the fact his eyes were fixed on her. She could feel his gaze on her, and it was like a warm, anxious feeling that spread through her, but it was pleasant.

"Wanna dance?" he asked without preamble.

She stopped tapping on the wood, then looked at him. His expression hadn't changed--he was still staring at her. "Um . . . Okay."

He got out of his seat and gently grabbed her hand from off of the table, pulling her out of her chair, and leading her towards the dance floor. Kathryn looked around at all of the people dancing around her and suddenly felt nervous. She'd only been to a few dances and she could dance, but she'd never gone with somebody and normally danced by herself. The fact that a guy was holding her hand with the intention of dancing with her was making her nervous.

When they made it into the crowd, the closeness of the people dancing making it warm, Kathryn started rocking to the side a little, matching the beat. Whatever song was playing had grunge-y feel to it so it had a nice beat--one that was easy for her to follow along with. She swayed her hips, feeling her skirt swish around her knees. She had worried about the skirt being too short--not that she wasn't afraid to wear anything above the knee, but that it might show off some of the rather colourful bruises she had on her thighs from running into tables, trees, and not to mention when Spike kicked her. The bruises usually went away within a day or two, she healed rather quickly, but still, she didn't want anyone thinking she was abused. It was the same reason her shirt had long sleeves.

Spike was looking at her with a very amused expression on his face, but she couldn't fathom why--she wasn't dancing that badly, was she? She wasn't dancing like a slut, right? She rocked her hips a bit more like the girl a few feet away from her instead, thinking that she danced better and that Spike wouldn't stare at her like that.

He actually laughed a few seconds later. "Luv, we can touch, you know," he said, grinning at her.

It was then she noticed that every time he stepped forward she took a step backwards. It wasn't that she'd meant to do it, but that she was. "Oh . . . I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"If you don't want to, you don't have to," he pointed out while raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't mind, we can touch--I mean, appropriate, no butt grabbing, or boob touching, none of that sort of--" He cut her off by grabbing her around the waist and jerking her against him. Her heart skipped a beat and her head spun dizzily for a second. They both stood still for a brief moment, with his hand splayed across the small of her back and him gazing down at her through his lashes.

"This okay?" he murmured as he rocked his pelvis against her.

He wasn't touching her breasts or bum, so she blinked a few times and cleared her throat. "Y-yeah, i-it's cool," she stammered quietly.

Using his hand he guided her hips so that they swayed and rocked against his, and she felt her cheeks burn. The music faded to a dull throb but her body moved to the beat of its own volition, feeling his body move and grind against hers. She looked into his eyes and noticed how fiery they were, how intense that blue stare could be, even more so than it had been a minute ago, and it felt like her body was on fire.

Feeling uncomfortable with looking into his eyes for some reason, Kathryn looked at his throat instead. She knew for a fact that if her dad or brother ever saw her grinding against Spike in the way that she was they would blow his head off, but she didn't care. It was surprisingly fun, although it was nerve-wrecking at the same time.

She was having a hard time keeping her breath steady. She concentrated on not hyperventilating, but that didn't stop her measured breaths from shaking while she circled her chest, her breasts pressing against his chest briefly with the beat, feeling his warm hand steady and still on the small of her back, not lowering towards her rear, just as she had asked him to.

For some reason she tore her glance away from his throat to glance up at his eyes, wondering if he was still staring at her, not knowing whether she wanted him to be or not, to find his gaze was still as intense. She quickly looked away, a strangely pleasant stirring in her stomach when he chuckled a deep, low laugh, something that she barely heard but felt through his chest, which was right against her. If not for the fact they were swaying and moving against each other, she would have been shaking, she was so nervous, yet oddly, excited.

Still staring at his throat, she saw that he was bending towards her and she leaned her head up instinctively, as if to meet his mouth with hers, just to find he bent his head so that his cheek was against hers, his mouth near her throat so she could feel his hot breath on her neck, which sent shivers down her spine.

The song ended and went into a more metal sounding dong with a quicker beat and more guttural, but easily understood, words. The pace of their dancing quickened and she felt his hand slide up her back and she felt his palm through the fabric of his shirt as though it were against the flesh of her back.

His other hand wrapped around her body and slid up her back just as the other did, then over her shoulders, then slid down her arms, which she realized hung limply at her side. When his hands grabbed hers and lifted them above her head, she started moving her arms about, looking around at all of the girls on the dance floor, copy their movements so she didn't feel like a windmill (or look like one, either.)

She felt rather than heard him chuckle again, then the backs of his fingers slid down the sides of her torso, which tickled her at the same time it pleasured her, which was something new to her. She giggled despite the fact she tried not to.

He strong hands grabbed her waists and guided her to meet his movements faster, and she was actually a bit grateful because she was sure she would probably look like an idiot standing a few feet away from the man in front of her, jerking from side to side nervously. Besides, she found that even though her skin was burning and her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, she wasn't the same type of nervous she had been earlier--at least she knew she didn't look like an idiot, and even if she did, she really didn't care.

She felt his nose nuzzle her hair and then down the side of her neck, and her throat went dry very suddenly. Her body very nearly froze. Was he going to kiss her neck? She hadn't known him for very long! If she did kiss him, would that be moving to fast? She was eighteen for God's sake, she could kiss him if she wanted . . . it wasn't like she was going to have sex with him . . .

She thought she felt his mouth against her flesh and his teeth graze her skin, but it was so brief she could have imagined it, and suddenly his head jerked away from her. She stopped dancing, wondering if perhaps he was stepping away from her, but instead he just stared down at her and kept moving, so she figured she was just being paranoid.

She didn't know if he had turned her or if she had been inspired to do it on her own, but suddenly she found herself turned away from him, her back against his chest, rotating her shoulders against him, swaying her hips against him feeling his arms wrap around her abdomen.

His body pressed against her back felt wonderful, and for some reason she felt more confident now. Spike wasn't ugly--in fact, in her opinion, he was far from it--and who was he with? He wasn't with a girl with supermodel looks, he wasn't' with a blonde, perfect, flawless slayer named Buffy, or a rather hot redhead--no, he was with her. And the people dancing around her were all focused on their own dancing. She realized that nobody was looking at her except him--and that made her feel better.

* * *

Perhaps asking Kathryn to dance hadn't been his brightest idea. Having a young slayer pressed against him, her heart thudding and blood pumping thick and hot in her veins, did nothing but tempt him. Tempt him in _several_ ways, to be honest. But did he regret his decision? Hell no. In fact, he was giving himself one hell of a pat on the back.

Spike would be lying if he said he didn't want to shag her right there. He could just lift up her skirt, pull aside her panties, undo his jeans, and have his way with her vertically right there on the dance floor. Knowing that he would get a resounding smack across the face if he attempted that (she had told him to keep his hands off her breasts and bum, hadn't she?) he managed to restrain himself.

However, something that was just as tempting (if not more so) was to tear in her jugular and drink the hot and aroused blood of a slayer. In fact, he nearly had. Smelling her so near, so close he could almost taste her on his tongue, he'd bent closer to her to smell her, and he gave in and tried to bite her. Had the chip not gone off, he would have.

She'd been nervous at first, moving around a little, looking nice but childish, until he'd helped a little. She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself now. She'd turned around and was dancing against him, her back pressed against him while he wrapped his arms around her, moving along with her. He kept his face against the side of hers, her neck closer than what was probably necessary but he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Her hair tickled his nose.

Her hair smelled nice.

He moaned and nuzzled against her hair.

Spike knew somewhere that nuzzling against her was not a good sign for some reason, but he didn't care.

He danced with her for the next several songs, loving the feel of having her against him, telling himself that it was because he hadn't been near anyone for a long while.

Finally she turned around, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck, still swishing her hips from left to right, but not with the energy she had been awhile ago. Spike was getting a bit tired of dancing as well, mainly because he knew if they danced for much longer she'd be able to tell he was turned on by the fact and it might make her less willing to be near him if she felt his raging hard on against her body.

Without speaking, he held her wrist and started leading her off the dance floor, and she kept by his side, which was different from last time when she was trailing behind him like a little child.

They sat at the same table as before since nobody had taken it. He looked at her flushed face and how bright her eyes were, and he felt pride swelling inside of him. "Well, that was more fun than I've had in . . . awhile," she said, biting her lip for a second and looking away from him.

"Yeah, me too," he admitted.

She looked at him, her large, brown eyes locking with his gaze, and she smiled wider.

"How about that whiskey you never got to drink, luv?" he suggested after a moment of silence.

She chuckled. "Sure."

* * *

Kathryn had only had one whiskey, not wanting to get drunk. Her father would be able to tell if she was drunk, and knowing him, he was probably waiting up for her to get home. It felt warm in her stomach for awhile, but other than that she didn't have any side effects. They'd danced to a few more songs before she suggested they go home, seeing as the crowd was dying and people were either too drunk to do anything but sit or too tired to dance. Kathryn didn't think she'd be confident enough to dance if there weren't more people doing the same for some reason.

"Right, so, I told her--I _told_ her she couldn't forget to feed it, an' that she had to take care of it, but she didn't; she never did. I felt bad for the bird soon as I bought it, but . . . Well, pets never really lasted long with Drusilla. Not a very good, ah, owner. So I just stopped getting them for her."

"Well, yeah, obviously."

"It was the same with the flowers. Not really a big fan of plants, I don't hate 'em or nothin' but I don't go out and look for seeds. Well _she_ did and the plants always bloody died, and I swear it was like her own child had passed in her arms, cryin' out to God and begging for more time. Like I said, a bit touched in the head--but not like . . . mentally challenged or nothin'."

Kathryn nodded, rubbing her arms as they walked through the park. The cool air outside compared to the heat inside the Bronze made her a bit chilly, despite the fact they'd been walking for awhile. "Hmm." She really didn't know what to say to that, so she shrugged. "My favourite flower is jasmine," she said conversationally. She had always liked how it smelled.

"Dru's, too," he told her quietly, as if it meant something important to him.

"Do you have a favourite flower?"

"Roses. Always liked 'em. They come in different colours. Smell nice. Simple and classic. Bit fond of black roses, though."

She nodded, walking a bit closer to him. "Spike? Um . . . Thanks for hanging out with me. I'm the new kid they took in from necessity, not . . . not 'cause they wanted to, you know? So . . . I get that our friendship is just supposed to be about training and getting me all ready to kick vampire ass, but . . . Well, it's nice, doing non-fighting things."

"Don't mention it," he said, and she noticed he was looking at the ground. Then, after a moment of awkward silence; "Friendship?"

She had noticed she'd said it too. She didn't know why the fact she had said that word meant something, but it did. It was like admitting they were friends was a step. "Yeah. We're friends, right?"

He elbowed her gently. "Yeah."

* * *

A/N--My favourite flower is a daisy. So . . . what's yours?


	11. Chapter 11

Spike leaned against the jungle gym and smoked while he watched Buffy and Kathryn spar. They were currently working on blocking, and Kathryn was doing a pretty good job of it. He understood how easy it would be for her to just ignore Kathryn and let him handle it, just like it seemed the other Scoobs had, but she was going through the steps, demonstrating a few times, then telling Kathryn to do it. She had been practicing with Kathryn for the past few days, ever since he had taken her to the Bronze, to be exact.

Spike watched as Buffy threw punches and kicks her way while Kathryn blocked or dodged. She was much quicker than she had been at first, then again they had been training for awhile. When he realized just how fast time was going and that in the following week she would be tested, he felt oddly panicked. Even if she was doing much better, how could he know if it was enough? The last time they had sparred, he'd won--again--and if she couldn't beat him while training how could she beat a vampire without her powers?

However, she moved quickly, and Buffy was being competitive so much as helpful so Kathryn was doing wonderfully. He watched as her curls swung around her face and how that too-large pink t-shirt rippled with each move, and how it raised every now and again, showing off her flat tummy. She had lost weight and toned up in the past few weeks, he could tell. Her stomach was flatter and her arms were more defined. She wasn't complaining about the pain as much, either.

And Spike didn't know why he focused so much on the way she moved, or the way she smiled when everything was going well with the blocking. He didn't know why he was so focused on how big her eyes were, seeing as her eyes were just a boring dark brown. He didn't know why he kept staring at her.

The past few days he hadn't been training her--not because he didn't want to, but because Giles felt that she needed to spend more time practicing with the slayer; with Buffy. Spike wasn't stupid--Giles didn't want them spending anymore time together. Spike insisted that he wasn't getting attached, that she was just another girl and he couldn't care less, but for some reason Giles didn't pay much attention to what he said. When he'd gotten back from dropping her off at her house, Giles had asked how their get-together had gone. He'd told them they danced a little bit. It wasn't then that Giles seemed to get frustrated, though, although Spike thought that that was a more worthy cause to think (even if he was wrong) Spike actually had some feelings for her.

It wasn't until later when Spike had casually mentioned that her favourite flower was jasmine that Giles had decided that Buffy should train her for the next little while.

But Giles was wrong. As far as he was concerned, Spike didn't care if she died or not. She was just nice to talk to was all.

He thought about how good she had smelled back at the Bronze, and how her hair had tickled her nose, and the way her body moved so fluidly, and how she had laughed . . . And how her skin had tasted when his tongue flicked across her flesh before he decided to be a complete idiot and try to bite her . . .

He blew the smoke out, watching it curl in front of him, obscuring his vision of the two of them fighting, so he blew the smoke away.

All right, so maybe he would be a little upset if she died. But who wouldn't be? He'd practically been with her every day for nearly three weeks and she had actually been a decent person towards him which, considering his current state with the Scoobies, was a bloody godsend. And yeah, he wouldn't pass up a shag with her, but hell, Spike wouldn't pass up a shag with Harmony again, and he hated her.

He shook his head, getting those thoughts out. What was he thinking? She was just a girl.

"All right, well, I'd better get a move on if I wanna get the good vamps. And you have school in the morning, so . . . Hopefully you're not too stiff to do math 'cause that's hard enough as it is."

Kathryn put her hand on her chin and popped her neck, then stretched her arms above her head. Although the pink shirt was baggy, it was a bit short, and so it raised high enough to show her navel and how low her grey sweats were riding. They used to fit her more snugly, but now they were just a little too big--not to much, but enough to hang low on her hips.

Why the hell was he focusing so much on her stomach? What a stupid thing for him to look at.

"Spike," Buffy said, coming up beside him while Kathryn stretched out her arms and legs, rubbing her thighs a little.

He tore his gaze off of her and looked at Buffy. "Yeah, what?"

She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and stepped a bit closer. "So, jasmine huh?"

"Yup, that's her favourite flower. Easy to remember--same as Dru's. Night blooming, you know."

Buffy nodded and casually brushed off her rather stylish green top. "What's her favourite ice cream?"

"Raspberry swirl," he answered with a shrug, surprised at how he'd known that. He couldn't remember exactly when she had told him that, but he had a vague suspicion that it was on one of their walks back to her house. "She said chocolate was good, but overrated, and vanilla was too bloody plain. 'Sides, she likes raspberries. And fruits in general, I s'pose."

"Favourite colour?"

Spike furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously. "Yellow, but not fluorescent yellow, more like a baby yellow."

"What colour looks best on her?"

"So far, I'm thinkin' blood red. Not bloody pink, I can assure you. Wanna know what scent her shampoo is? Normal shampoo-scented shampoo. How about her brother's name? It's Kyle. And while we're at it, wanna know what position she sleeps in or, I don't know, how about her soddin' menstrual cycle? Seriously, Slayer, what's with the twenty questions? Bloody hell."

Buffy stopped dusting off her clothes casually and looked at Spike seriously. "Why don't you think about how come it is you know all of these things about her and then you can get snappy with me, okay?" She was getting a slight tone.

"Oh, come off it, Buffy, she talks a lot. I know you have a hard time believin' this but when you talk with others, it isn't always about you. I s'pose you wouldn't know that though. Did Giles put you up to this? Has Giles been tellin' you his concerns? Look, luv, we're training her, she's not gonna die, so I can get attached to whoever I damn well please--and while we're one the subject, whose to say I'm even attached?" he growled, but quietly so that Kathryn couldn't hear.

"Oh, okay." She looked at Kathryn for a moment, then leaned closer to Spike, as if she was going to tell him something Kathryn shouldn't overhear. "The other day, Kathryn said you had a sexy mouth."

"She did?" he asked, smiling a bit. She thought his mouth was sexy? That cheered him up quite a bit. "Well, well, well, I knew she was starin' at my mouth the other day, but I didn't think that she thought--" When he saw her cocky expression, he realized she was just saying that to prove her asinine little point and he glared at her. "Shut your gob, Slayer, that doesn't prove a damn thing. I like people thinkin' I'm attractive, an' you're lyin' anyway."

She sighed. "Spike, when you know someone's favourite ice cream, I think that's when it's safe to assume you've got a crush," she pointed out.

"I don't!" he exclaimed a bit louder than he had meant to.

They both seemed to realize how loud that last bit was and they turned to look at Kathryn, who seemed to have frozen in the middle of stretching her arms out behind her and was staring at them with a puzzled expression on her face.

Spike stepped closer to Buffy and whispered harshly; "I don't fancy her, got it? She's just a friend."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Fine, okay. You're not attached, I get it."

"Damn straight." He took a drag off of his cigarette.

"So . . . Um, Xander told me that once you tried to stake yourself 'cause Drusilla dumped you."

Spike blew the smoke out so that it went into Buffy's face. She coughed and stepped back, glaring at him evilly. "There was a bit more goin' on in my life than that, Slayer, but yeah, so what?"

"What would you do is she died?"

"Look, I told you and Giles I don't care about Kathryn so why don't you--"

"I was actually talking about Dru," she said hastily, but Spike got the feeling she just said that to avoid an argument.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Sure ya were. Anyway, sod off, Summers, go patrol an' whatnot." He flung his cigarette away from him and turned away from Buffy so he could lean against the jungle gym and look at Kathryn, which he thought was far more entertaining than talking to Buffy.

Buffy huffed, then stalked away.

He pushed himself away form the jungle gym and started walking over to Kathryn, who was raising an eyebrow at him. "What were you two fighting about?"

"Her being a conceited bitch is all," he mumbled, not wanting to tell her that he'd just spent the better part of their discussion insisting he didn't care about her. She nodded and he titled his head. "You wanna spar?"

She smiled. "Yeah. But this time I get to be the vampire; you promised, remember?"

Spike laughed. "Yeah, I did."

"Ha ha, you have to keep track of the invisible stake."

He raised an eyebrow at her, then she charged at him. Maybe it was because he hadn't fought with her for a few days, but it caught him off guard. She tackled him to the ground, but he quickly reversed the positions so that he was on top.

She struggled underneath his weight and he smirked at her, but then she smacked her forehead against his lip and he tasted blood in his mouth suddenly. She shoved his chest so that he stumbled backwards and she jumped up and kicked him in the chest just as he was trying to stand up. He fell on his back--again--and she pounced on him, her legs squeezing his sides while she struggled to keep his hands against the ground.

Spike was surprised at wild her eyes looked, and he smirked at her when he tugged his left hand out of her grasp, which was the one he was pretending to hold the stake in. She saw it coming at her and leaned out of the way, which made her lose her balance. When he went to go for her chest again she swiped his hand away and he used the moment to flip her onto her back so that he was on top of her again.

She hit the ground and grunted a little. Before she could move he leaned over her and raised his left hand. Both of her hands rushed forward to grab his wrist and that was when he looked down at her. Her hair was splayed all over the place, fanning around her head. Her shirt was halfway up her abdomen so he could how her skin stretched over her ribs and how low her sweats hung. For some reason, leaning over her with that wild look in her eyes reminded him of sex. He irrationally thought that that was what he would see if he had sex with her, only she would be more naked, of course.

Whether or not she thought of the same thing, her eyes moved from his hand that was clenched into a fist and met his eyes, and a hot shock went through him.

Red splattered across her skin suddenly, little tiny drops marring her cheek, and one stray drop landed on her bottom lip. For a second Spike didn't know why blood was suddenly appearing on her face, then he remembered that she'd bashed her forehead against his lip and that he was bleeding on her.

With his other hand he tried to brush the blood from off of her face, but it only served to smear it across her pale cheek and another drop landed near her lip. Although he knew the blood was coming from him, seeing it on her made him want to taste it. He leaned forward and her grip on his wrist lessened.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a gruff voice.

Spike grimaced and turned to see a vampire. Out of all the times for one to appear, he had to show now? What the hell? Why did Spike care? Had he been about to kiss her? No, he'd been about to lick the blood off of her face . . . All right, so perhaps the vampire showing at that time was a good thing. How the hell would he have explained licking blood from her face?

"Seems like I got myself a snack," he continued, walking closer to them.

* * *

Kathryn had never had someone else's blood in her mouth before. She'd tasted her own blood before, she was sure most people had, but someone else's? It was a bit creepy when she thought about it. She hadn't meant to cut Spike's lip when she had head-butted him, but apparently she had.

Oddly, though, she wasn't thinking about how it tasted like pennies and that it wasn't her blood. Mostly she was thinking about how it looked to have Spike leaning above her. Kathryn would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about Spike in romantic way before, nor would it be honest if she said she'd never fantasized about him.

Having him lean over her and to see the weird look in his eye--a gentle, yet focused, look--she couldn't help but think about how soft his lips looked. She regretted telling Buffy she thought Spike had a nice mouth, despite the fact she had been answering a question Buffy had presented her, because ever since then her and Giles had been lecturing her about how she shouldn't get attached to people just in case she did die, and that she needed to focus on training and not how hot certain men were.

Spike used his free hand to wipe the blood off of her face, only to have more drip onto her mouth. Spike looked down at her and she saw something in his eyes change, something determined and hungry replaced the confused but tender expression before, and he started leaning down.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Well, if that wasn't bad timing, she didn't know what was.

"Seems like I got myself a snack."

Spike rolled off of her and she stood up, realizing that she didn't' have a stake on her. How stupid was she? Buffy always had a stake on her, but they had never suggested she take one, because they didn't want her getting hurt when she should focus on the test and not patrolling; not just yet. She wasn't ready. She was _never_ ready.

"Oi, luv," Spike said, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a stake. She must have looked confused, because then he just shrugged. "What? Think I'm gonna let you wander around without protection?"

He tossed it at her and she caught it, staring at the vampire. She smirked with confidence she didn't really have.

The vampire charged at her and she dodged out of the way, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Having a vampire charging at her felt much different than having someone pretending to be a vampire attacking her. It was far scarier for one, and her mind conjured up fast, split second flashes of him killing her and drinking her blood at the same time she blocked a few of his hits, clutching onto her stake tightly, not wanting it to be smacked out of her hand.

He growled and kept trying to punch her, but she managed to block every time, probably because that's what they had just been practicing. His yellow eyes shone hungrily and he growled with frustration every time she managed to knock away one of his blows. He looked like a feral, depraved animal. It was one thing to theoretically talk about fighting a vampire but actually doing it was something else entirely.

She knew that if she messed up, she could die. It wasn't like sparring when she lost and Spike just started sparring again, it wasn't like the vampire biting her neck would tickle like it did when Spike did it. No, he was intent on drinking the blood of a slayer--her blood. The very thought of it frightened her and angered her.

For some reason she thought she was going to forget every move they had taught her, but it came out fluidly, instinctively. When he managed to get a backhand across her face, the sharp sting to her cheek sending waves of fear down her body, she backed up several feet, afraid that he would be able to gain the upper hand since he'd managed to get a hit in.

He laughed and ran at her again, and she swung and hit him upside the face with a right hook, the stake clenched in her hand adding more pressure. He stumbled backwards and she started wailing on him, punching every part of his body she could fight while he attempted to fight her off. She was aware of the fact he hit her in the stomach, but she was more concerned with getting hits in.

Finally she kicked him in the gut and he stumbled backwards, slamming against the jungle gym that Spike had been leaning against a few minutes ago, and she reared back her fist and slammed the stake into his chest, waiting for him to explode into dust.

Instead he let out a yell of pain. "Bitch!" he shouted, then reared back his fist to punch her. With her left hand she blocked it, then rammed the stake into his chest again, feeling the sternum crack underneath the weight of the sharp wood in her hands and his eyes widen with surprise. She jerked the stake out to watch him disintegrate into ash.

She had just staked her first vampire.

"Got him right in the lung the first time, pet," came Spike's voice from behind her.

She turned around to see him staring at her casually, hands in his pockets, like what had happened was normal. But it wasn't--not to her.

"I did it!" she cried, then ran at him. Spike flinched, like he was afraid she was going to stake him, despite the fact she dropped it right before she leapt into his chest and wrapped his arms around him.

"What the--"

"I did it! I staked a vampire!"

For some reason she was excited. She figured that it probably wasn't really that big of a deal--Buffy killed vampires all the time and she knew Spike was a vampire hunter so it was just casual for him as well--but it was different for her.

Spike's arms were at his sides even though she was hugging him tightly. She heard him chuckle and wrap his arms around her too, patting her awkwardly on the back.

She couldn't wait to tell Kyle what she'd done. She couldn't wait to let him know that she had finally staked a demon. The vampire hadn't been very tough so she assumed that he was a newbie, which sort of depressed her a little bit knowing that he wasn't very strong. He'd probably never even fought a slayer before, but what did she expect? She couldn't take on a vampire that could actually hold his own against a slayer her first fight, could she?

She was still grinning like mad when Spike stopped patting her back but held her closer. "Good job, Kathryn," he congratulated, his hands smoothing the back of her shirt.

That's when the hug changed. In the space of a second, it stopped being so tight, but softened. She felt him nuzzle against the side of her face and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't had her body pressed against his like this since they had danced, and even then it was different.

He smelled like leather and cigarette smoke, and some obscure cologne or aftershave. Normally it wasn't something she would pay much attention to, but for some reason, she loved the smell on him, even though cigarette smoke really wasn't the most pleasant of aromas. She pressed closer against him and felt her throat dry suddenly, smelling in his scent and closing her eyes.

It felt different to hold him. When she thought about it, she had never held anybody before. She'd hugged them tightly and briefly, or did the one-armed hug with her brother, but that wasn't holding somebody.

She slowly pulled away and looked Spike, who looked a bit reluctant to pull away from her until she stood in front of him, her arms still around his back. He tilted his head and suddenly his palms on her back were hot.

"You have blood on your mouth," he pointed out quietly, so quietly it almost came out as a rasp.

She cleared her throat and stepped away from him, feeling cold and let down. She wiped the blood off of her mouth, most of it coming off in flakes.

They looked at each other and when their eyes met, it was like she was doing something wrong and so she quickly looked away, and judging by the way he jerked and stepped away from her he'd looked away as well, but she couldn't be sure because she wasn't looking at him.

A second or so later, Spike mimed staking her in the chest. "I win," he said.

Kathryn scoffed, then smacked Spike's arm playfully, ignoring his chuckles.

* * *

A/N--this is weird, but I used to have a crush on a kid who hated my guts. Well, he didn't always hate me. We were friends in fourth grade. Well, in fourth grade, he told me that; "I like chocolate ice cream 'cause everything else is too fancy and vanilla's too plain." When I was in eighth grade, I was pretending I hated his guts because he hated mine and we constantly fought. In class. So everyone assumed we both hated each other.

Anyway, one day he was gone, and one of his friends was talking to a group of girls. He asked; "I'm throwing a surprise birthday party for him. But I don't know what ice cream to get."

I turned to him and said; "Chocolate. He thinks everything else is too fancy but vanilla is too plain." At the time I couldn't even remember why I knew that.

The group of girls stared at me, stunned. They kept saying; "I thought you hated him?" and whe nI todl them i did, they were all; "If you know his favourite ice cream it's safe to assume you've got a crush." Which opened a can of worms because then the kid knew I still had a crush on him and spent the next years following me around to bully me, harass me, etc.

Anyway, my favourite ice cream is peanut butter chocolate. Yummeh.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike leaned against the counter in the kitchen and watched as Giles took off his glasses and wiped them on his suit. Kathryn had just finished telling him that she'd staked a vampire, and instead of Giles congratulating her, he simply took off his glasses and wiped them clean cautiously.

"Perhaps we should be more careful where we train you from now on," he said simply.

"What?"

"I wouldn't say you were ready to fight vampires on your own, Kathryn. If you're injured before the test, your chances--"

"Shut up, Rupert," she spat and Spike stopped leaning against he counter, surprised at her tone. Giles look quite stunned as well. "I'm a slayer. Eventually I'm gonna have to slay. And oh, by the way, smacking around Buffy and Spike isn't the same as actually fighting a vampire, and no offence or anything, but I think I'm gonna need some practice with real fighting before the test."

"Kathryn--"

"No. You guys don't think I'm ready, whatever. But I'm gonna tell you now, there's no possible way that the vampire I'm getting locked up with can be the first vampire I actually try to fight, and guess what, playing around with you guys and training is great, but eventually, we need to go to the next step. And if we don't, I will die. I get the fact that you all think I'm gonna die anyway but I think I would appreciate it if you, I don't know, actually tried to help me so that I didn't because unlike you I actually care if I die."

Giles stared at her and she folded her arms, pursing her lips.

"If you feel ready to go patrolling then I shall, of course, allow you to do so. You are a slayer and by all rights you should be allowed to slay. If you wish, I will schedule a patrolling session with Buffy. You may feel ready, but I would feel more comfortable if you had someone with you."

"Spike was with me and I did all right."

"Somebody else."

"No, Giles, I'm the slayer, and I'll slay with whoever the hell I wanna slay with. There's nothing wrong with Spike. I can train with him as much as I like and I can get attached to him as much as I like and if I decide to have friends then I'll have friends if I like. I know I might die soon but that doesn't give you a right to be a fascist little bitch."

Spike's eyes widened. Wow, she was really irritated, wasn't she? Giles and Spike shared a look, although Spike caught onto the fact the look Giles was giving him wasn't very kind, and he turned back to Kathryn. "If that is what you wish, I just think I would feel more comfortable if you wouldn't spend so much time together, and especially when you're . . . fighting vampires."

"Yeah, well, it's not up to you."

"I suppose it isn't."

The silence grew in length and in awkwardness.

Finally, after a few seconds, Giles cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should inform your brother you're staying the night. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I would like to get an early start on your training."

Kathryn narrowed her eyes for a second, then nodded. "Okay," she said curtly, then brushed past Giles and headed over to the phone. When she wasn't looking, Giles indicated for Spike to go to him.

Sighing, Spike walked over to Giles, who indicated they walk a little further away from Kathryn.

"If you think for one moment that I trust you, then you are mistaken, Spike," Giles snapped quietly, pursing his lips angrily and glaring.

"Whatever happened to your touching words of concern?"

"Despite what you feel for her--"

"A complete lack of caring for her, that's what," Spike added hastily, and a bit defensively.

"--yes, you keep telling us that, and you wonder why I don't trust you near her. Whatever it is that I believe you feel for her, the fact is that you are still a vampire, and she is a slayer. If a vampire is about to kill her, what proof do I have that you will stop it?"

Spike glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kathryn hadn't overheard what Giles had just said, but she was still on the phone, so he turned back to Giles. "I'm not going to let anything happen to her, all right?"

"You say that, yet I have no proof, so you understand why I cannot allow--"

"Because I--" he started, a bit louder than he intended, then he looked down and quieted his voiced when he realized the rest of the sentence. "Because I like her, okay? I . . . am a _little_ attached, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Wanted to suss it out of me? Fine, I like her. I don't love her, I'm not saying she's my one true bloody soul mate . . . But yeah, I like her. So what now? Gonna make me stay away from her like you have been all week? What's it take? You want me to stay away 'cause I like her, then you want me to stay away 'cause I don't, well newsflash, I'll do as I please and so will she."

"Spike . . . Do you care for her? Enough to protect her if the case should arise?"

"Well, yeah."

"Enough to stake a vampire for her?"

"Why not?"

"What of Drusilla? If she were to attack Kathryn, what would you do?"

Spike narrowed his eyes at Giles. "That's hardly fair, Rupes, and you know it."

Giles nodded, then stepped closer to him. "Yes, perhaps. But listen to me, Spike--unlike Buffy, I have no qualms about staking a harmless vampire who has threatened our lives on several occasions. If I find out that you are jeopardizing her life, then I will kill you."

Spike had never really felt threatened by Giles before, but at that moment, Spike realized that he could be a very intimidating man. His voice lowered and had a very threatening tone, and his eyes darkened. He could tell that Giles was serious, and that although he might not look it, he certainly did seem to have the ability to take Spike on, especially with the chip in his head. Perhaps before Giles wouldn't have stood a chance, but without the ability to fight back, Spike knew that it would only be too easy to kill him.

"I'm going to bed," Giles stated, then walked up the stairs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Spike watched him retreat, then shook his head and went over to sit on the couch. It wasn't too long after that when Kathryn sat down beside him, smiling. "Well, I think Kyle's jealous, but he congratulated me on my first staking."

Spike nodded, realizing that he had just admitted out loud to liking her. What did that mean? Did that mean he liked her romantically or just as a friend? Just as a friend, surely.

Then again, that hug after she killed that vampire . . . He enjoyed having her against him, and at first he hadn't known what to do, and yeah, he'd been a bit uncomfortable, but holding her against him softly, smelling her scent, hugging her hadn't felt so odd after awhile. He'd liked holding onto her. He'd like having her pressed against him.

"It's a little weird, though, you know? Killing a vampire. I mean, all right, he was trying to kill me so I don't feel too guilty about it, but still . . . It's just unnerving how they kinda look human, even when they have those bumpy things on their foreheads."

Spike nodded." Yeah, well . . . They look even more human when they don't. You could meet a vampire and not even know it."

"Yeah, that's what's . . . weird. I mean, how do you know? There's got to be some . . . Slayer sixth sense, right?"

Spike shrugged, still a little unnerved by the fact he had just realized aloud and admitted that he did care for her. That made it much harder to think about the fact she could possibly die, although he doubted she would.

"Are you okay?" Kathryn asked, putting her hand on his knee.

He shouldn't have noticed that her hand was on his knee. People touched all the time; that didn't mean they were conscious of the fact it was going on. So the fact that his mind was stuck on thinking about how her hand felt on his knee wasn't a good sign either. How the hell could he have convinced himself he didn't know he liked her for this long?

"I'm fine, just . . . Rupes, you know." She scoffed and nodded, taking her hand from off of his knee. "Well you certainly told him, didn't you?"

"It's just . . . I don't have time to deal with their crap. I mean . . . my test isn't too far away, and I could die. I can't deal with them not trusting me to go to the next level when the fact is I have to otherwise I might not survive. I know the odds are against me, but they need to at least try. And here you are, being just as helpful--if not more so--and all they can do is tell me to stay away from you. And even if I do survive the test, slayers don't exactly live for a long time, so . . . Yeah, if I feel like hanging out with you, I can, and if I actually wanna know what the hell I'm doing before they throw me in a room with a vampire, then I think I should be able to. My body aches, my muscles are sore, and every time any of Buffy's friends or Buffy herself look at me I see that really annoying look in their eyes, like they're uncomfortable, and have to listen to lame-ass pathetic excuses on why they have to leave. I'm not stupid--they just don't want to be near me."

"You know why, luv, right? It's not that they don't like you . . . It's that they don't want to like you. Way they see it, you've got a date stamped on your forehead, and they don't wanna get attached just to lose you."

"Oh." He watched as comprehension dawned on her face and then she looked at him. _"Oh._ I see. Well, then. That makes sense."

He nodded, then leaned his head on the back of the couch. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, then closed his eyes, staring at the black. He wasn't tired, but it felt nice to close his eyes.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"Thanks for not being afraid like them."

"You mean, thanks for getting attached?" he amended with a smile on his face.

"Yeah."

"Well, thanks for lettin' me."

He felt much better now. The fact that he liked her didn't feel so tragic anymore. Liking her wasn't so bad. So what if he was a soulless vampire? So what if she wasn't Drusilla? That didn't mean that what he felt for Drusilla was a lie or made it less amazing or true or intense. It just meant he liked her--that he would be sad if she died, and that if she were turned into a vampire she wouldn't annoy him.

He felt her head on his shoulder and his eyes snapped open. He looked down at her, having every intention to get up or slide his shoulder out from underneath her head, but instead, when he saw her face looking up at his, his smiled, and put his arm on her shoulder, closed his eyes, and put his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

Obviously, she'd gotten a bit attached too. At least he wasn't the only stupid one.

* * *

The first thing Kathryn was aware of was the fact something was touching her face. Thinking it was a bug or spider, she considered smacking it or shoving it off of her face, but then when she felt it stroke the side of her face then go up into her hair and pet it, she realized it was Spike's hand.

She remembered leaning against his shoulder. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, she had just felt like putting her head there. She had expected him to pull away or "suddenly" have to use the restroom or get a drink and therefore have to get up off of the ouch and then not sit next to her when eh was done, but instead he just smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulder.

At first it had been awkward, just sitting there with her head on his shoulder and not talking because when they were together, they either talked or fought, and sometimes both. Btu after a few minutes of her opening her mouth to say something and nothing coming out, it felt comfortable, and she sat there with her head against him, not speaking, letting him put his arm over her shoulder. She remembered how much she liked how his calloused thumb stroked her arm, and how she could feel it through the fabric of her shirt.

She didn't know how or when, but eventually she must have fallen asleep.

Without opening her eyes, she tried to figure out was position she was in. She was on her side, her hip positioned between his legs, and her head on her chest, one of her arms was wrapped around his back and the other was wrapped around her own stomach, but she could feel his arm on top of it.

She could hear him humming a vague familiar song, one that she was sure she'd heard on the radio at some point in her life but couldn't remember the words, and felt it vibrating through his chest. Although she thought it had been rather chilly, it was warming up considerably when she realized how she was sleeping.

She felt his fingers glide through her hair, and when they hit a snarl, he calmly pulled his fingers away from that area and started petting her curls elsewhere, until her calloused fingers brushed down the side of her face, around her cheekbone, across her jaw, then back up the side of her face.

She breathed in his scent, feeling the fabric of his shirt against the side of her face, and smiled a little. His body felt cool beneath hers, which she thought was actually quite comfortable since the room seemed to be getting warmer.

His fingers slowly travelled down her skin and it tickled, and she felt the sides of her mouth lift in an involuntary smile. She felt the back of his fingers underneath her chin and then his thumb brushed along her bottom lip.

The fact that he was humming meant that he was awake and doing this voluntarily, which confused her slightly but at the same time it made sense--he flirted with her sometimes, but she wasn't awake at the moment so what was the point? She wasn't about to complain though because she liked it. It felt nice, having his fingers trail along her face, across her mouth, and down her chin. It left burning trails along her skin along his actual fingers were cold. That fascinated her and made her nervous at the same time; her heart was thumping harder in her chest, but she managed to keep her breathing steady.

She felt his knuckles drop down to her left collar bone, which was the side she was sleeping on. For a moment she thought he was going to grab her breast and if he did she was going to pretend to wake up and get off of him, but then it slid across her collarbone, from her left to her right, then slid up the side of her throat and she felt one lone finger trail where she thought her jugular was, but she had never really been good with biology.

The back of his hand rested there for a moment before his fingers slid into her hair again.

"I know you're awake, luv," he stated quietly.

She opened her eyes and saw that his left over was over her arm that she had around her abdomen, and she thought his grip look somewhat possessive. She titled her head so that she could see his face, and saw that his eyes were closed. "So are you," she pointed out, realizing she sounded a bit defensive.

He just smiled.

She smiled back although she knew he couldn't see it, then closed her eyes again, figuring that if he knew she was awake and she knew he was too then he wouldn't stop doing what he was doing. She figured that he must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, otherwise why would they be lying in the position they were in? She wondered how he had known she was awake, but decided she didn't' want to talk and ruin the moment.

She let him continue doing that, finding it rather soothing. He seemed to keep going back to her throat, which tickled her the most, and she figured that was why he kept going there. She didn't mind, though--it was a good sort of ticklish.

"What are you doing?" came Giles' voice suddenly.

Both her and Spike jumped suddenly and her heart leapt into her throat. Spike let out a grunt and she realized she had accidentally elbowed him in the gut and then she grunted out when she felt his knee hit her ribs.

She hopped off of the couch at the same time Spike did, and she started brushing off her clothes, knowing she was blushing by the way her cheeks burned.

"We were sleeping, obviously," Spike said as if it were obvious.

She glanced at Giles and it looked like he was doubtful that they had been, which technically they weren't but they hadn't been doing anything wrong either, and she wondered how long he'd been watching them and she felt a little pissed off at him for some reason.

"Of course," he said, although she could tell by his tone he was just avoiding the discussion that would follow.

* * *

Giles had pretty much taken over training for the day, leaving Spike to go to his room (the bathroom.) For once he was glad because he had a raging hard on that he needed to take care of by wanking off in the shower. Spike could have watched them train but he did want to get in a few hours of sleep seeing as he hadn't slept yet anyway. Besides, he knew if he stayed out there he'd have to deal with the sidelong glares from Giles and disapproving 'tut' noises.

Truth be told, he'd had every intention of taking a little nap--hence the reason he'd lied down on the couch and moved her in a position that was comfortable for him. But he wasn't tired, and so he'd started to play with her. There wasn't any real reason behind it; he just had. But he knew Giles would want to ask why and that irritated him, so he stayed away. Why was it important? Why must there be some deep psychological reason to play with a girl's hair? And how long had he been standing there watching them? Not that it mattered because they hadn't been doing anything wrong.

By the time spoke woke up from his nap, the porcelain of the tub making his body stiff and sore, not to mention he had a slight headache that he attributed to the hard surface he'd used as a pillow, the water from his shower and dried but he was still naked, and someone had drawn the curtain around him. Giles had bought the curtain recently because Giles was a shy guy when it came to peeing. It probably didn't' help that Spike made a crack about his penis once, but it wasn't his fault Giles had stumbled tiredly to take a piss in the middle of the night and Spike just happened to see. What did they expect from him? Kindness? Not likely; being shackled to a tub and interrogated didn't exactly bring out the best in him.

Spike climbed out of the tub and popped the various joints in his body that needed popping, wishing he'd been able to sleep on the couch instead. There was a pile of black clothes folded neatly on the toilet, and he realized it was his laundry, Spike didn't have much laundry and all of his clothes looked pretty much the same so Giles never really minded doing it for him. However, he hadn't ever folded the clothes for him, so that was nice. Maybe Giles wasn't that angry after all.

Spike changed into his clothes and left the bathroom, sauntering into the living room, glancing at the clock and realising it was late enough for him to go out if he wanted to.

"How ya doing?" Kathryn greeted. Spike shrugged, noticing she was wearing a white tank top and grey sweats that didn't fit her properly. "They're Buffy's," she revealed and he figured he must've been looking at her strangely if she felt the need to explain.

"Oh."

"I see that you're dressed," she noted.

"Aren't I usually?"

"You weren't earlier, when you were sleeping. I had to pee."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her and stepped closer, looking down at her through his lashes. "You saw me naked, huh?" He stepped even closer, tilting his head to the side, lowering her voice. "Like what you saw?"

She stepped even closer and raised her chin up. Even though she was blushing, she seemed to be gathering confidence. Normally she didn't flirt in return. "What do you think?" she inquired innocently.

"Oh I think you liked it."

"I think you're right." She smiled at him, then she stepped away. "Anyway, Giles says you can take me patrolling if you want. And, since tomorrow is a rest day, we can do it tomorrow too, or you can come over . . . or not. Whatever you like; it doesn't matter."

"Of course I'll come. Looking forward to that all week."

"Great," she said, smiling at him.

* * *

A/N--I am actually quite proud of this chapter. Hate it? Love it? Press the review button and let me know!


	13. Chapter 13

Kathryn's bones all jarred against each other when she hit the ground, the back of her head bouncing off of the ground beneath her. She hadn't expected the ground to be as hard as it was--after all, it had never seemed too hard when she lied peacefully on the grass. However, that was a bit different than being knocked down.

She saw a foot going towards her face at an alarming pace and she rolled out of the way. She stood up and dodged a punch and stumbled backwards. This vampire was fast--faster than the other she had fought. She'd staked three vampires that night, and just when she was getting confident with herself, she had come to come up against a real asshole.

All right, so two of the last three had just barely crawled out of their graves (she knew--she's watched them do it) and so the fight hadn't really been that great, but the third she'd found just wandering around the cemetery, and he'd been a slight challenge.

But this guy was quick and difficult to even keep up with.

He lunged at her and she stepped aside just in time, but then she felt a sharp pain on her scalp. She let out a shriek when she realized he'd grabbed her by the hair and tugged her against his chest. Without thinking, she turned her stake around (which she was clutching onto tightly) and stabbed him in the side with it. He let out a howl and let go of her hair. She stepped away from him and turned around to see him clutching his side, his yellow eyes fixed on her angrily.

She ran at him and raised her stake, going right for his chest. She grabbed her wrist and twisted it, pain shooting up through her arms and somehow it made her let go of the stake. He caught it with his other hand and she did the first thing she could think of--she kneed him in the groin.

He stumbled backwards at the same time he shoved her and she staggered backwards, losing her balance and tripping, falling on her butt.

Spike let out a growl and threw himself at the vampire. Kathryn was grateful because she'd been fighting with him for awhile--several minutes at least--and she didn't think she was doing very well. She stood up and readied herself to join the fight, thinking that two against one would definitely up their chances.

She watched Spike deck the vampire right in the face and that vampire retaliated by shoving the stake right into his gut. Spike did an odd half-growl half-yell and his eyes rolled up briefly before he swung back and hit the vampire across the face with a right hook, since his left was clutching the wound. The vampire shoved Spike away from him.

Kathryn had been stunned into paralysis for a second, praying that she hadn't seen what she thought she had. Then she came to senses a second later, and found herself charging at the vampire. "Hey!" she shouted. The vampire turned to regard her but before he turned all the way, she slammed her fist into his face, feeling his nose crunch and blood spurt from his nostrils. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and punched him a few more times, ignoring his gurgled cries and somehow knocking away the hand with the stake several times casually.

Finally she threw him to the ground and stomped on his wrist, watching him cringe and the stake roll out of his hands. Before he could reach for it again she kicked him in the side and took it from the ground, jumping away just before he managed to grab her ankle. She threw herself on him, slamming the stake into his chest as she did so. He let out a choked cry and blood splattered up. The blood looked almost black, pouring out of his nose and out of his mouth. She realized she had missed his heart by quite a bit and instead staked him near the collarbone. She raised up her fist, clutching the stake, anger pummelling through her with every heart beat, and swung it down, slamming it through his rib cage and tearing it out. He disappeared beneath her and she swayed a bit at the awkwardness of him turning to dust when she had been straddling him.

She turned and saw Spike half-sitting, using one elbow to support him while he held his stomach. He was staring at her strangely, as if she had done something extremely odd.

She crawled over to him. "Spike!" she slid in front of him, knowing that she had grass stains on her knees now. "Oh God, he stabbed you!"

"Yeah, caught that," he grunted, pulling his hand away and sneering at the blood that stained his palm. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well that hurt." He wiped his palm on the grass and gestured at the place where the vampire had turned to dust. "You really beat his soddin' face in, though--keep that up; gotta fight dirty. The Mike Tyson approach, like I said."

Kathryn shook her head, thinking Spike's behaviour odd. "What? Spike--you were just stabbed."

"Yeah, I was there when it happened," he said, standing up, holding a hand to his stomach and pulling it away, a string of blood connecting his hand to the shirt.

She stood up with him, her heart thudding in her chest. "Maybe you shouldn't move. Maybe we should call the hospital; say you got mugged or something--that looks really bad, Spike, I'm serious."

He stared at her like she was being stupid. "What? What are you--" His expression changed, like he had just realized something important. "Oh. Right. No, really, I'm fine--I've had worse."

"Just let me see," she said, reaching forward to grab his shirt. He pulled away from her. "Come on, Spike, I've gotta see it." She reached forward hesitantly and he jerked away a few more times. They stared at each other, both of them very still for a few second, then she reached forward, knocked his hand away, then lifted up the shirt with her other hand.

There was a hole on the side of his stomach, thick blood dripping down his skin slowly, and strings of it stuck to his shirt. The blood was sticky and dark. She could vaguely smell copper and knew that it was his blood. Oddly enough, blood had never really bothered her too much, but for some reason, seeing it that much on someone she cared about around a wound that was obviously bad made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Spike, no, that's really, really bad, we've gotta take you somewhere," she stated.

"No, really, I'm fine," he promised, grabbing her wrist and trying to force her to pull his shirt down.

She shook her head and kept her wrist firm so that he wouldn't force his shirt over it. "No, Spike, you're _not_ fine, we've gotta--"

"Kathryn." The way he said it made her look into his blue eyes. "Listen to me. I've had worse. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this the first really bad wound you've seen?"

"Well, yeah."

"So I've got a bit more experience than you. Believe me, I'm fine. I'm not in shock, either. He got me to the side, is all. Looks bad, hurts like a bitch, but nothing important got hurt."

She looked at him and saw in his eyes that he meant every word he said, so she let go of his shirt and he pulled it down so it covered his wound. The anger at the vampire and the fear that he'd been seriously injured bubbled inside her for a second and then turned into a tears that burned her eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, luv, really, I'm fine, don't cry," he said quietly, reaching forward and holding her face, forgetting the fact he'd just held his wound with it and was now brushing blood along her skin. He looked at his hand and grimaced, pulled his hand away, and used his other, clean hand to hold the other side of her face. "Really, don't, I'm fine."

"It's just--" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, feeling stupid for letting tears come down her face when he was obviously fine--even if she still thought he should probably see someone. "It's just, I thought he killed you," she managed to rasp. "And I--I was so angry, I thought you were going to die, and I--I was sad," she finished lamely.

He shook his head and smiled. "I'm fine." He seemed to be grateful at her concern and his eyes searched her face. He pulled her into a hug and his other hand went into her hair, his fingers getting tangled in her curls.

She sniffed a little and buried her head in his shoulder, hoping he didn't mind if some tears got onto his leather duster. He held her tightly and then pulled away, holding her at arms' length. He was grinning slightly, then when his eyes travelled over her face his smile faltered. "Oh, bullocks," he grumbled, stepping away from her. Her hair stuck to his palm for some reason and when she looked at his hand, she realized he'd forgotten he had blood on that hand again. "You've got blood all over you--oh, bloody hell, it's on your shirt."

She looked down and realized that the blood from his wound and smeared all over Buffy's white tanks top when they hugged. "Buffy's shirt," she amended, hoping that peroxide would be able to get it out.

Spike laughed. "Come on, we'd better get you home so you can wash up."

* * *

It was a damn good thing he was a vampire, otherwise that wound would have been pretty much fatal. It wouldn't have been a quick death, though--it would have been slow and painful if he hadn't gotten to the hospital in time. For a minute there he'd forgotten that Kathryn didn't know he was a vampire and didn't know why she was so worried, and then when he remembered he'd been lying to her about that small little tidbit ever since they'd first met he'd been touched by her concern for him.

He was in the kitchen next to the sink simply because there was a mirror in the bathroom and he didn't want Kathryn noticing his little lack of a reflection. He was shirtless, using a wet rag to wash around the stab wound. Kathryn was sitting on the counter beside the sink, her legs swinging while she stared at his shirtless body. He was sure that she was just fascinated by how casual he was about having a gaping hole in his stomach, but he liked to pretend she was staring at him lustfully instead of furrowing her eyebrows in worry or wincing whenever he did.

Then again, the fact she was that worried about him made him happy to, so either way, it was a good thing.

"I think it needs stitches."

"Don't really have anything here to do it with," he pointed out. "And don't have much in the way of cash, so I guess this'll have to do. Might have somethin' at Giles's though. Hand me the gauze will ya?"

She reached into the first aid kit and handed him the gauze and the little scissors that came with the pack. He cut off a little square and she handed him the white tape before he even asked for it.

"You can give yourself stitches?" she asked while he taped the gauze over his stomach.

"Doesn't feel too great but yeah." He glanced at her, noticing how well she had managed to get the blood out of Buffy's tank top with some vinegar and peroxide. "You did really good fightin' him, you know."

"Well, I thought he killed you." She looked down at the floor and she spoke in a quiet tone that made him think she felt ashamed for some reason.

He reached forward and put his hand on her bare shoulder, squeezing it a little. She looked up from the ground and he brushed his thumb along her skin.

She reached up and put her hand over his, squeezing it slightly. He felt an odd sensation in his chest when she did that and he chose to ignore it. Even if he had admitted to liking her and being attached a little, he didn't really want to analyze just how much at the moment. He was starting to see why Giles had suggested they didn't get too close before the test--it had only been a few weeks and she was already beating the hell out of vampire just because he stabbed him. He was already playing with her hair. Spike had never been one to takes things slow but that was different--there was a difference between caring about someone and just wanting a shag. He certainly didn't love her--he barely knew her--but he did care about her and obviously she cared about him. He could see why Giles wouldn't want that to happen because if she died . . . Well, he wouldn't like it at all.

"Fight like that more often, yeah?" he suggested.

"Mike Tyson approach," she said with a smile, letting go of his hand and he pulled his hand off of her shoulder.

"Yeah."

* * *

The next few days she had trained with Buffy, mainly because she knew Spike was wounded. She'd spent Sunday evening with Spike, but all they did was hang out at her place with her dad, who seemed to like Spike. Kyle wasn't too much of an ass to him--in fact, he spent most of his time avoiding Spike all together. However, whenever they did manage to have a conversation, it was polite and brief, and she was thankful Kyle wasn't being an asshole. Even though he'd been wrong about Angel, afterwards he still went out of his way to insult him or give her dirty looks when they saw each other.

Spike and her had conversations, but they hadn't sparred because of his wound, so instead she'd gone patrolling with Buffy. Buffy and her talked while they patrolled, but it was usually forced and awkward and a bit brief. Buffy asked about Spike's wound and how she had reacted, and since Spike had obviously told her (and probably embellished a little) she told her the truth. Buffy simply told her to fight like that--as if every vampire had killed someone close to her, because every vampire had killed someone.

"Assume every vampire has killed two slayers," she told her several times. "'Cause you don't know when you'll meet one who has. Better to go in over-prepared than under."

Why it was always two slayers she didn't know, but she understood the point.

It was Thursday before Spike said he could patrol again. Honestly, Kathryn worried that was far too soon, but he had insisted, and said he healed quickly. "See? I told you it wasn't as bad as it looked."

They were walking beside each other, and she noticed that every now and then their arms bumped. "These past few weeks have gone by fast," she noted.

"Well when you think about it that's not a very long time. So, uh, any good fights I missed?"

Kathryn shrugged. "Killed a few vamps. Once I made one cry."

"You did?"

"Well I dropped my stake--yeah, I know, bad move, trust me, Buffy lectured me for it--and so I kicked his knee and it popped out the other way and he started crying. Then again, the bone broke through the skin and I could tell that his kneecap was all torn outta place and was sliding down his leg. It was all twisted and not in the right place _at all._ I could see the lump through his pants. Plus, you know, he couldn't walk and he just fell over, clutching his leg, sobbing . . . I'm sorry, is this making you sick? I just realized how graphic that was."

"Luv? I was stabbed in the stomach. Do you honestly think hearin' about a busted leg makes me queasy?"

She chuckled then shook her head. "Um, no, probably not. But yeah, I staked him after that--didn't want him to suffer, you know?"

Spike furrowed his eyebrows, looking thoughtful. She wondered what he was thinking; she often found herself wondering that. "That's really . . . nice, I s'pose. Not makin' him suffer, I mean. I've done my fair share of . . . making others suffer." He spoke carefully, as if he wasn't quite sure how much he wanted to tell her about making the vampires suffer.

Kathryn shrugged a little. "Well, I can see why people would. But even if they're . . . psycho killers, if we sit there and make them suffer, we're not any better than them." He shot her a nasty glare, and she internally smacked herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to . . . compare you to a vampire, I just meant--sorry, sometimes I'm . . . stupid."

"No, don't be sorry. You're right. I like the fact you say what's on your mind. I always like it when people are forthright." Their arms bumped again, and Kathryn stepped closer to him, wondering if perhaps she was subconsciously making their arms keep hitting.

They stared at all of the headstones around them, and surprisingly, it was actually a nice night. It was warm and the streetlamps shone on the ground, lighting their path.

"Summers is usually here right about now," Spike pointed out, looking up at the moon, then around at all the headstones again.

"Why do you do that?" she finally asked, although she had been wondering about it for a long time. The problem was she never wondered about it when he was around, and always remembered to ask him after he was gone.

"Do what?"

"Say . . . pet names, I guess. Red, mate, luv . . . pet . . . Summers, Slayer . . . Whelp . . . Rupes . . . You know, things like that. How come?"

Spike was silent for a minute while they strolled about, Spike looking more at home than she thought she would ever feel. Then again, she figured if she survived the test and patrolled often, she might one day look as much as home in a cemetery as Spike did. Spike used his hand to slowly dust off the top of a headstone as he walked by it, then he finally shrugged. "Don't know. Never really thought about it . . . I just do. Why? Does it bug you?"

She shook her head and pressed her elbow against his arm purposely, trying to make it look like an accident, loving how her arm warmed up for the brief moment they touched and for a few seconds after. "No. It's just something I noticed."

"Sure it doesn't bother you, pet?"

"I'm sure, William," she said, putting a slight mocking stress on his name.

Spike chuckled as their arms touched, sending tiny sparks through her body. "All right. Just a habit I picked up, I s'pose."

She nodded, feeling a little anxious, looking around to see if Buffy was nearby, seeing as Spike had mentioned she usually patrolled the cemetery at that time. It might have been her imagination, but it seemed Spike was steadily moving closer to her, strolling slightly slower every time they got closer, like he had all the time in the world.

Their arms bumped again, and this time, she did it on purpose, just liking the feel of his leather brushing against her bare arms. For once she didn't have any bruises, so she took advantage of that by wearing a spaghetti-stringed shirt.

Suddenly, Spike's hand wrapped around hers. It surprised her at the suddenness of it, but she figured that she might as well allow him to hold her hand (seeing as she had been begging silently for it all night--hence all the purposely-on-accident arm bumps) and blushed a little, ducking her head so he wouldn't see how red her cheeks were.

His fingers were rough, but they slid in between hers smoothly, entwining. It was like her arm was on fire, but in a pleasant way, and her heart thudded quicker in her chest. She stared intently at the ground, noticing each blade of grass and bit of dirt that passed underneath her feet. She wanted to look at Spike, but for some reason, she was too nervous to do it.

Finally, after gathering up courage for a few seconds, she looked at him, hoping that he wasn't looking at her, but at the same time praying that he was, and it turned out that he was gazing at her openly. When their eyes met he stopped walking and she quickly looked away, although he moved so that he was in front of her and she couldn't walk any further.

He stood in front of her, holding her hand in between them, his eyes moving from her face to her hand. She looked at her hand too, watching as his thumb slowly brushed over each of her knuckles. The pad of his thumb brought tiny bursts of heat all over her hand, and even though she tried to stop it, her breath started to shake. She stared at his black thumbnail, noticing just how much the paint had chipped, imagining him sitting on Giles's couch, casually painting his nails black whilst being bored. It was a funny image to her for some reason and she chuckled.

"What's funny?" he inquired so quietly she barely heard him.

She looked up at his face, and for once, he wasn't staring at her, but still looking at how their hands intertwined, as if carefully watching the pattern he made along her hand. The way the dim light of the streetlamps and the moon shone on his face brought dark shadows under his high cheekbones and it brought contrast to how white his hair was. It sharpened his features handsomely, and her heart skipped a beat.

"It's nothing. You just . . . you paint your fingernails."

He slowly tilted his head up and brought his eyes to meet hers, but the darkness made it hard for her to see them properly--she wouldn't have seen the blue unless she'd been looking for it. He brought his other hand to her face and slowly brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek. "Yeah, I do," he said slowly, cocking his head to the other side.

The way he touched her face made her knees feel wobbly suddenly and shivers go up her spine. For a second her breath hitched in her throat and she nearly closed her eyes to relish the feeling of his skin against hers.

She put her index finger on his chest, staring at her hand instead of his face. "Yes you do," she said, using her fingers to walk up his chest with each word. She kept her index finger stiff for a second, then she slowly brought it down his chest, feeling him inhale suddenly, but not hearing it. It was when the tip of her finger trailed along his stomach and she felt his muscles tighten under his shirt that she heard him gasp.

The hand that had been holding hers shot up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly, about ready to step away from him quickly and pray the ground swallowed her up.

"Do that again . . ." She glanced up at him when he spoke, his voice low and trembling slightly. ". . . and I'm going to kiss you," he threatened.

She stared at him, not quite sure she'd heard him properly. He let go of her hand and she kept in the air awkwardly while his other hand tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Did she want him to kiss her? Was he afraid she would freak out if he wanted to? Why else would he warn her unless he thought she might not want it? Did she?

Futilely trying to swallow the lump in her throat, she boldly placed her finger on his chest again and, as slowly as she could, brought it downward, across his abdomen, feeling the muscles tighten again while he made a very quiet, but deep, groaning noise.

She stared at him and watched as he slowly grinned. He leaned forward, and just as quickly and he leaned forward to kiss her, he suddenly walked past her and cleared his throat, bumping his shoulder against hers.

What the hell? The anticipation turned to embarrassment and rage. Had he just been playing with her emotions the entire time? Was it a joke?

"Slayer," he greeted behind her, and suddenly, she understood.

She turned around to see Buffy walking towards them. "Hey, guys. Havin' fun patrolling?"

"It's been kinda . . . vamp-less so far," Kathryn announced, hoping that Buffy didn't notice how annoyed she sounded because of her bad timing.

"Aw, that's too bad. Anyway, it's getting' kinda late and I know you've got school in the morning. It's been kinda dead on my end too, so how 'bout we walk you home?"

Seeing as Kathryn's moment with Spike had been ruined and she doubted they would be able to find another kissing moment without it being forced, she nodded with a sigh. "Yeah, Sure."

* * *

A/N--Grr, Buffy. Grr!


	14. Chapter 14

The walk to her house was extremely awkward. Spike, whilst never exactly nice to Buffy, was being ruder than usual to her, and Kathryn couldn't help but wonder if he was as irritated at the fact Buffy had interrupted what could have been a really amazing kiss as she was. Because of the fact he was quick to snap at everything Buffy said, Spike and Buffy kept having small little arguments over everything, and if they weren't insulting each other, they were awkwardly silent. Any time Kathryn started a conversation with Spike Buffy would put in her two cents, which would make Spike tell her off, which would start another battle of wits between them and end in more awkward silence.

Kathryn could see why the two of them really didn't want to spend much time with the other. It seemed that everything Spike did irritated Buffy and vice versa. She figured they hated each other because of the fact Angel cheated on Buffy with Drusilla when she was dating Spike, but really, why they took it out on each other instead of their supposed lovers was beyond her. It was a shame because they were both nice people, or at least she liked both of them.

When she got home, Spike walked in out of habit, and Buffy followed, which earned a frosty glare from Spike.

"Oh, hey Spike," her father greeted casually. "Oh, and this must be . . . Buffy, right?"

"Yep, that's me."

Her father stuck out his hand and Buffy shook it, forcing a smile at him. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you." he pulled his hand away and looked at Kathryn. "I'm glad you're here. You'll never guess what I found at work the other day."

She tried to look curious, but in reality, she didn't really care. The last time her father found something at work, it was a black widow that she scooped into a jar, only for it to escape later that day and scare the hell out of her when she opened the pantry door. "Oh, what? It's not another spider, is it?"

He shook his head. "Come on, I'll show you."

She followed him into the kitchen, where there was a large crystal. Kathryn had to admit, it was actually quite nice. It looked like something she would see on the television with some guy investigating it with an odd tiny telescope he put over his eyes and chipped away at it with tools that reminded her of the dentist's office. "Wow, really? And you just found it lying there?"

"Yeah, in the parking lot. I think it's like a fossil or something--look, there's a mosquito in the middle." he pulled out a chair for her and she sat down in it, looking in the middle, but she didn't see anything. "It's really hard to see, you really have to look."

Kathryn sighed and rolled her eyes, then looked at it more closely. She stared at the crystal, thinking that it was actually quite interesting as it was, and didn't' really feel like looking for a dead mosquito inside of it. It wasn't _Jurassic Park_ for God's sake--why did it matter if there was a bug in the middle?

The more she looked for it, the more beautiful she realized the crystal was. It reminded her of something, something that was so long ago she couldn't really recall what she was remembering . . . It was like seeing a familiar actor but not remembering what other movies he was from. The more she tried to remember why the crystal gave her déjà vu, the more confused she became. If only she could remember why the sparkling crystal was so familiar to her . . .

"Kathryn."

Her father's voice was loud and surprised her. She blinked and realized she had gotten lost in thought, but couldn't remember just what she'd been thinking about, like during a long drive and she stared out of a window and forgot just how long she'd been staring, or when she accidentally started daydreaming in math and suddenly came too, having no recollection of what she'd been daydreaming about.

She had no idea how long she'd been staring at the crystal, and she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm a little tired . . . got lost in thought . . ." She remembered why she had been staring at the crystal in the first place. "Yeah, it's really nice Dad, maybe it is a fossil," she said politely, although she didn't see any damn mosquito.

She got out of the chair and noticed that Buffy was clutching Spike's arm (which resulted in him giving her a dirty look) and that his nose was bleeding. "Your nose is bleeding," she pointed out, shaking her head. She felt a little light-headed, like perhaps she had stood up too fast.

He jerked his arm out of Buffy's grasp, and Buffy hastily started looking around the kitchen. Spike wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He shrugged, then turned away form Buffy. "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

* * *

Spike had thought that Buffy was just being her normal irritating self, not wanting Kathryn to be alone with Spike. Spike thought she'd seen them almost kiss and wanted to shove her way into their cosy little time together to prevent them from trying again. He hadn't even stopped to think that her walking Kathryn home had been planned.

As soon as Kathryn sat in front of that crystal, she'd frozen. Her father had waved his hand in front of her face and Spike moved to go make sure she was okay, but then Buffy had grabbed his arm, her lips pursed tightly. It wasn't until her father calmly put a needle into his daughter's arm that Spike tried to break free, but Buffy held him back and punched him in the face for good measure.

Spike didn't understand how the hell Kathryn hadn't woken up after having her dad stick a needle in her, so he figured the crystal had some sort of mystical power to keep her staring off into space like a teenager in math class.

When her father said her name and she snapped out of it, she didn't seem to realize that anything odd had happened. When she'd pointed out his nose was bleeding, he had half a mind to tell her that something really odd had happened, but with Buffy right next to him, he didn't feature getting punched again.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes," he muttered after he pulled free of Buffy.

"Lemme get you a cold rag," she said ,then left the kitchen, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head.

As soon as she was down the hall and the bathroom had closed behind her, Buffy turned to Spike. "It's for her test, Spike. Trust me, I wouldn't have let him get near her with that thing . . . But it'll cause more harm than good if we fight it."

"What? That was--" He looked at her father, who was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He pointed at her. "You know? Since when the hell did you know about--"

"Shut up, Spike," her father growled into his palms.

Spike was taken aback at his tone, but before he could say anything the bathroom door opened. Kathryn walked into the kitchen and handed him a cold rag, which he used to wipe the blood off of his hand and then he pressed it against his nose.

"Wanna come hang out in my room for a bit?"

"I think you should go to bed, Kathryn, it's getting late," he father said, lifting his head from his hands.

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her dad. "But Dad, I just wanna hang out for a little--"

"You were out late enough, Kathryn, and you have school in the morning. Get to bed. Now." He took on a sharp tone and glared at her.

"We're not gonna do anything bad, Dad. We're just gonna--"

"I said get to your room, Kathryn!" her father shouted, standing up so suddenly his chair scooted backwards and nearly fell over. "If you think I'm going to let you be in your room alone with that man you are seriously mistaken--now get up to your room this instant!"

Kathryn reeled back a little, and Spike thought she looked confused and shocked at her father's sudden mood change. He supposed he would have been too, and a part of him felt like just blurting out what had happened, but with a wary glance at Buffy he kept his mouth shut.

"I'm eighteen, Dad, if I want to have an older male friend, I can," she said in a threatening tone. "Spike and I aren't going to do anything, and even if we were, I wouldn't need your permission."

Her father slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it, Kathryn, do as I say!"

Spike had seen Kathryn get into loud screaming matches with her brother. In fact, he'd listened to one the very first time he'd set foot in her house. He waited for her to get into one with her dad, and smirked in anticipation. This should be entertaining.

Instead, Kathryn spun on her heel and brushed past Spike, bumping into him without apologizing, and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door shut. A second later, there was a loud thunk and Spike got the impression she'd just thrown something across the room. Then she let out a loud scream, and he heard even more thuds and stomps and screams.

Kathryn was throwing a tantrum that she probably thought none of them could hear. It appeared that even though she had no qualms screaming at her brother for being unfair, that she had at least a little more respect for her father (or at least, feared him more--Spike wasn't sure which one it was, although he'd never gotten 'abusive father' vibes so he assumed it was respect.)

Her father kicked over the chair and it fell to the ground with a clatter and the he knocked the crystal off of the table. It clunked on the ground but it didn't break. He then put his hands on the table and bowed his head, breathing heavily.

Spike got the distinct impression that he hadn't exactly had a good day.

"Mister Daltry?" Buffy ventured, walking closer to him. "I, uh . . . I understand how hard this must--"

"No you don't," he interrupted, but didn't look at her. "Do you know what it's like to have stranger burst into your house, wake you up after a long night at work, and threaten you? Do you know what it's like to have to wait patiently for your daughter to come home and violate her trust? You don't know a damn thing."

Spike smirked. It was about time someone other than him told Buffy what she needed to hear.

Buffy frowned. "I didn't mean that. If there was anything I could do to prevent this, I--"

He spun around and looked right at Buffy, and Spike had never seen him look angry before in his life. He was usually a genial man. "It must be so easy for you, Miss Summers, to sit here and tell me how sorry you are that I just had a council of people who are suppose to care about my daughter sign away her life. It must be so easy for you to sit her and apologize for having to listen to how they could easily take my daughter from me, as well as my son, if I didn't do as they said. It must be so damn easy for you to sit her and act all sympathetic when you survived the test. You, someone who killed the slayer that called my daughter. You, who is so damn special she can't even fight off the Council she quit."

Buffy frowned, but this time she didn't look sympathetic so much as angry. "You don't know what I went through. I had a vampire kidnap my mother and the man I trusted more than anyone take my powers from me. I've done everything I can to help her get ready, and if I could find some way of making them change their minds, I would. And as for Faith, I think you shut the hell up about things you don't understand."

"Maybe you should practice what you preach. I was just told that if my daughter refuses the test or if anyone of you try to hide her, they'll send in a special ops team to kill her, and you expect me to be in a happy-go-lucky mood? I'm sorry, but you know nothing."

"Listen, I know you've had a rough day, but I'm really trying to be sympathetic here, so could you--"

"Maybe I don't want to have you pat my shoulder and tell me everything is all right! Do you know what it's like to have your children almost taken from you because your own damn sister doesn't think you can handle taking care of them? Did you know that I had State try and take them from me because I thought I saw a demon nearly kill my last daughter? Do you know what it's like to sit here and question not only your sanity, but your son's, just to find out that it's all real and your daughter is chosen to kill them? I might not know what it's like to be a slayer, but you don't know what it's like to be the father of one, so maybe you should get the hell out of my house."

Buffy opened her mouth to say something and judging by the way her green eyes were narrowed, it didn't look like it was going to be nice. But apparently she had more brains that Spike gave her credit for, because she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, then slammed the house door shut so hard that he felt the floor vibrate briefly.

Spike stared at the fuming Mister Daltry, feeling awkward. Whilst he had no problems whatsoever about anybody screaming at Buffy, he had to admit that Buffy had been trying to be kind and he'd snapped at her. He didn't blame him for snapping, of course, but now Spike was alone in the kitchen with a man who had just found out that vampires existed and had killed his family. And one of the two vampires that had been responsible was holing a now-warm rag to his nose hoping to God that he Mister Daltry hadn't recognized him.

They both looked at each other, none of them speaking. Music was blaring from upstairs, but all Spike could her was the bass and some jumbled lyrics.

"I'll just go, shall I?" Spike suggested, moving to leave the kitchen.

He raised his hands. "No, don't do that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--" He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have yelled at her. She was just . . . You don't know how hard it was for me to smile at her and tell her to look at that crystal, Spike. And to see Buffy standing there, acting all nonchalant when she knew too . . ."

Spike nodded, pulling the rag away from his nose and looking at how the red stained it. He sniffed, knowing that he wasn't bleeding anymore. "Yeah, well . . ."

Her father took the rag from Spike and went over to the sink, tossing it in there. He opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer, then went over to the table and sat. Spike was still standing by the archway that led out of the kitchen awkwardly, then her father motion for him to sit.

Spike went over to the table and sat. He took the beer from her father and opened it. His hazel eyes glistened slightly, but he didn't cry or anything. Spike would have understood if he did cry, but he was glad he didn't because Spike didn't really like listening to people cry. He'd have no idea on how to comfort him, not that he would because . . . that would just be strange.

"After the Council told me what happened last year . . . I expected Buffy to be more . . . I don't know . . . not so calm about the whole thing. Her birthday was last week. Apparently." He rolled his eyes and Spike got the feeling that the Council had told him. Spike hadn't even known it was Buffy's birthday, and wondered if she'd been expecting a gift from him, because he certainly wasn't going to give her one. He wondered if Kathryn had bought her anything. "Then, after the damn Council explained everything to me, I get a call from Buffy, saying that she would be here with Kathryn. This all happened while she was at school," he explained unnecessarily.

"Yeah," Spike said, only because the silence stretched on for a few seconds and it was starting to get awkward. Why did her father feel the need to open up to him? Spike didn't really like people opening up to him. Well, he didn't mind it; he just didn't like it.

"I didn't know you were going to come."

"I didn't know what was going on," Spike explained, partly to explain why he happened to be with Buffy and partly as a way to tell him that he'd had nothing to do with her getting her powers taken from her.

"Figured as much when she hauled off and punched you," her father stated, taking a swig of his beer. Spike chuckled and did the same. "So you two were together already? Kathryn and you, I mean."

Spike nodded. "Patrolling." Off her father's confused expression, he elaborated. "It's what we call hunting vampires. Anyway, we were patrolling, and Buffy popped 'round, wantin' to walk her home. Sodding bint. Buffy, not your daughter."

"I'm sure the Council came and explained everything to her, too. I got _threatened._ They told me if I tried to hide her they'd take her from me, and that they had the resources to do it, too. They went off and told me about that rogue slayer that Buffy killed, and how they have 'special ops' to take care of people like that." He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. "And Kathryn's known all along. Kathryn's been training and she knew that she was going to have to do this. God, I couldn't imagine walking into a house with an insane vampire. And she couldn't even tell me."

Spike nodded, simply because he didn't know what else to do.

"Poor Kyle. I didn't realize he knew for so long. Apparently he sent them letters when she was just thirteen. He was here when they came. I noticed they were fighting less." He chuckled humourlessly. "All this time, he was right. He'd told me that she was a slayer once, and I just brushed him off. I've yelled at him before, and it was all true. He's taking us out tomorrow morning--I'm calling her in so she doesn't have to go to school. I'd invite you, but . . ." he trailed off, then took a swig of beer and shook his head.

Spike shrugged. "I couldn't go anyway. The Scoobs--er, Buffy's crowd--they've got me doin' stuff for 'em tomorrow morning. Might drop by later, though--if that's all right."

Her father chuckled humourlessly again. "Okay. Except I think the test is tomorrow so, uh . . . you might not have a lotta time to say goodbye."

"It's not goodbye, mate. It's 'see ya later,'" Spike insisted.

Her father nodded, then slowly took a drink of beer. "I thought I was insane, Spike. I told my sister. She . . . She was just concerned, I guess, but . . . I don't think I can forgive her for it. I had to go to counselling. I almost had my rights to see them taken from me--I was almost put in a hospital for awhile. She told them that I was having mental issues, that I couldn't take care of my kids, that she worried about . . . About them being raised in a proper setting with my mind the way it was . . . I lied about what I saw to them, of course. They interviewed me, and they said I was fine. But . . . But for years, I always wondered if maybe I should have let them take me, because I . . . I know what I saw. And I've spent years telling myself I was crazy, calling my son crazy, thinking that I'd passed on some disease to him . . . And you should've heard some of the things I've said to him, some of the things Kathryn has said . . . I didn't want my own daughter saying it to me, so I . . . I kept my mouth shut."

Spike awkwardly took a sip of beer. It was his fault all of that had happened after all.

"And then I found out that I'm not crazy. That vampires really did torture my son and nearly kill Kathryn. They vampires really did murder my wife and child."

Spike nodded slowly. "Yeah, uh . . . Kathryn told me 'bout that," he mumbled.

"Kathryn told you," he repeated dully, and Spike wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. Their eyes met, and her father just sighed. "You don't even remember them, do you?"

And it was as simple as that. He didn't yell at him, he didn't threaten to kill him, or anything. He just asked a simple question.

And Spike froze. So he knew then. "I didn't."

He nodded. "But then you did."

Spike wanted to know how long her father had known what he'd done--how many times they'd talked and in the back of his mind knew he'd been talking to his family's killer. Because it had been Spike who'd done the killing. He'd shared the young girl with Drusilla, but he'd slaughtered the wife all on his own. Drusilla had been having too much fun with torturing Kyle. However, as much as Spike wanted to know how long her father had known who he was, he didn't want to press the issue because of the chip, so he simply drank his beer.

"You've been good to her, Spike. She trusts you. She feels . . . safe, with you. I won't take that from her--especially not now." He drank his beer again, but he noticed that his eyes were watering more than they had before. "That being said, hurt her, and I will kill you."

Spike knew it was pointless, but he promised anyway. "I won't hurt her."

He nodded, then sighed. "Anyway, I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows, not really understanding why her father would care about Drusilla cheating on him, but then she shrugged. "Yeah. All right."

Her father nodded at him, then stood up from the table. "Well, I'm off to bed. You can stay the night if you like--she's not going to school tomorrow."

"Uh, Mister Daltry--"

"Call me Stan."

"Right. Uh, Stan . . ." Spike opened his mouth to apologize for killing his wife and daughter, then he figured that it might cause more harm than good, so he deflated. "Thanks," he settled for instead.

Stan nodded, but said nothing.

* * *

A/N--Hehe, are we noticing a theme about my male OC names? (It was a total accident, I swear.) If you don't figure it out now, you'll probably catch on later.


	15. Chapter 15

Kathryn knew she was acting like a child, but she couldn't help it. She'd been a bit moody recently, not surprisingly. She figured anyone would be a bit irritable if she did nothing but train and go to school and then be constantly warned against the one person who actually seemed to take a liking to her. Now with her father snapping at her for no reason whatsoever, what was she supposed to do? Be mature about the situation? She was only eighteen for God's sake. She hated it when people told her to act her age. Last she checked, eighteen was still a bit young. She didn't exactly want to fight a crazy vampire and die, either, but apparently that's what she had to do. The fact that she was going to die soon probably wasn't helping her mood, either.

She was listening to whatever rock station that didn't have late night blabbing with people who were supposed to be really good with love advice. She wasn't even really paying that much attention to the songs, either--she was just sitting on her bed, contemplating picking up the mess she'd made by knocking a bunch of papers off of her computer desk and throwing her backpack across the floor. She wasn't really in the mood for cleaning, but she wasn't in the mood for sitting on her bed and staring at walls either. Knowing that, she knew she was probably going to ignore the mess entirely and get on the internet, but she tried to tell herself she was going to pick up the mess anyway.

There were a few knocks on the door, but before she could tell her dad to go away, the door opened. She turned to start yelling at her dad, and noticed that it was Spike who was walking in instead. "Spike? What are you . . . Does Dad know you're here?"

"Yeah, uh . . . He said I could stay the night."

Kathryn frowned, not quite sure she believed Spike. "Are you sure? That's kinda weird."

Spike shut the door behind himself and nodded. "Yeah. He's gonna call you in tomorrow so you don't have school. So . . . uh, luv, I gotta tell ya somethin'," he said, in the tone that let her know that what he was about to say wasn't going to be pleasant. She got up off of her bed and switched off the radio. By the time she turned around to go back over to her bed, Spike was standing right in front of her.

She jumped backwards a little, her back slamming against the dresser she kept her radio on. "God, you move fast."

"Yeah . . ." He sighed, then tilted his chin down, as if to keep eye contact with her. He held her arms, and she suddenly felt her heart dancing in her rib cage. He rubbed her arms, his eyes searching her face. He let out a sigh, and she felt his breath on her face. It smelled like cigarette smoke. "The test is tomorrow."

It was like her feet gave out underneath her. She didn't even realize she'd started to fall until Spike held onto her arms tighter and held her upright.

"What? How do you know?"

"Your dad . . . The Council, er . . . told him."

She got the feeling he was leaving stuff out. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "The, er . . . Council told him, so . . . that's how I know." He took a large step away from her, and she wished that he hadn't. It felt like she was going to fall over again. "Look, uh . . . Your powers are gone. Hit me."

"What?"

"Go on, luv, hit me."

She hit him as hard as she could in the face.

His head snapped back a little, but nothing else happened.

"What? But--but I was _just_ patrolling! You and I sparred earlier today--I had powers when we sparred! How did this happen? Is it a spell? How did . . ." She furrowed her eyebrows, and something clicked into place. Her father suddenly going mad for no reason, Spike's bloody nose, the crystal that obviously didn't have the mosquito in it . . . "My dad? They made _my dad_ give me the shot?"

"What? How did you . . ."

She looked at the crook of her arm, and sure enough, there was a tiny little hole above her vein. "Kyle told me! God, I'm so stupid! I knew that crystal was familiar--I knew it!"

Tears sprung up into her eyes, and she turned away from Spike so that he couldn't see. "Tomorrow? That means--they've been here for days, setting up . . . Right under our noses, and I . . ." Her voice cracked and she covered her eyes with her hands, willing the tears to stop. "It's too soon, Spike, I'm not ready," she managed through heavy breaths.

She felt his hands on her arms and realized he was pulling her back against his chest. She felt his arms wrap around her abdomen, and realized just how strong he was. Perhaps it was because her powers were gone, but she had never really noticed how strong he was--or if she had, never to this extent. She wiped her eyes and forced herself not to burst into hysterics, and put her hands over his. Her breath was shaky and her eyes were burning, not to mention every inch of her skin was crawling. She was afraid. She didn't think she'd be so scared the night before. It wasn't like she was walking into the building. If she was that scared now, how on earth was she going to fight that vampire tomorrow?

His chin was on her shoulder so that she could feel his defined cheekbone against her face. "You'll do fine, luv." His voice was low and she could feel his chest vibrate against her spine. The scent of cigarettes and leather surrounded her, not to mention the slight cologne he wore, but she'd never figured out just what scent he was wearing.

"But . . . I'm just a girl, now. I can't . . . I can't fight a vampire like this."

"Yes you can," he murmured, and she realized that they were rocking slightly. Her body started shaking when she thought of coming face to face with the vampire, knowing that she logically had no chance.

"It just went by so fast . . . I mean, I thought three weeks was gonna be enough, but . . . But it wasn't, how could it have been? It didn't seem so close before. There's things, Spike, things I wanted to do, things I wanted to see and feel, but I won't, and I just . . . It was all for--"

"Stop it, luv. Stop talking. Stop thinking."

She shut up, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter. She realized she was squeezing his arms and that the tears were running hotly down her face. Her body was shivering as if she were cold, but she knew it was from fear.

"You're heart's racing about a hundred miles an hour," he whispered in her ear, which tickled. "Don't be afraid, Kathryn. You'll be fine. Calm down. Deep breaths."

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. She tried to keep her breath steady but it was cracking and shaking, and the tears burned underneath her lids and fell down her cheeks despite the fact she was squeezing her lids shut. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

She noticed that Spike was breathing at the same time she was, as if guiding her. And even though the fear was still stirring inside her, it was slowly ebbing. It didn't go away by any means, but it became bearable. She didn't think anything could make the fear go away completely.

"That's better," he whispered, his breath stirring across her cheek.

She smiled a little when she realized her heart was beating at its regular pace. "I feel safe with you," she revealed slowly, not quite sure she was telling him.

He made a humming noise. "The only thing you need to worry about . . . is getting some well-needed rest, and where I'm going to sleep."

She opened her eyes, and the light of her room hurt her retinas for a second and made her a bit light-headed, but it went away quickly. "Well . . . You can sleep with me if you want."

"Hmm, that sounds promising."

"Well, if you think like that you can have the floor," she half-joked. "I mean sleeping, Spike. That's it."

"If you insist," he relented, then stepped away from her.

She went over and lied down in her bed, covering herself with the blankets. She watched as Spike went over to the window and closed the curtains, then sauntered over to her bed, and got under the covers with her.

She'd never shared a bed overnight with anyone before and she felt a little nervous about sharing it with Spike, but oddly enough, not as nervous as she thought she would be.

They were both on their sides, and she was forcibly reminded of the time he molested her ear, and she smiled. She thought of how they'd fallen asleep on the couch and how he'd played with her hair and face, and how nice and soothing it had felt.

She reached forward hesitantly, and he eyes her hand. She paused in midair, then barely touched the side of his face. The tips of her fingers tickled slightly when she traced his cheekbones and his jaw, feeling his skin. She ran her fingers across his bottom lip. She had always rather liked his mouth--she had even told Buffy once that she thought his mouth was sexy, something Buffy teased her about, even though Buffy had sort of tricked her into saying it.

Spike caught her fingers with his teeth and bit them gently.

She couldn't help but laugh. Perhaps it wasn't the appropriate response, but she thought it was funny. She'd been so tense and nervous about touching his face, and stressed about her situation, and suddenly he was biting her fingers.

Spike started laughing as well, and that made her feel better about her response. He had a distinctive laugh and she liked it--then again, she thought almost everything about Spike was distinctive and likeable.

"You're such a geek," she managed through her chuckles and smacked his chest playfully. "You're always biting me."

He reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well maybe if you wouldn't present yourself to me . . ." His finger dipped to the side of her neck and brushed down it slowly.

"Hey, that's not fair, sometimes I put up a good fight and hit you pretty damn hard."

"Pfft, just 'cause the sun got in my eyes," he dismissed.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "We fight at night."

"The moonlight, then." He trailed back up her neck just as slowly. "Always leavin' your throat exposed . . ." He was staring at the flesh he was touching, then leaned in and slowly bit into her neck. It didn't tickle like it usually did, but it certainly didn't feel bad. A pleasurable chill shot down her spine and she arched against him, trying to ignore the tiny throb between her legs.

Perhaps sleeping in the same bed was too much to ask.

She was aware that she made a tiny noise but she hoped he hadn't heard it. Of course, she knew that he had seeing as his ear was near her mouth, so it was really quite stupid of her to hope that.

He pulled away from her and looked down at her, as if confused by the way she'd reacted, although she knew he had to have done that on purpose. It was Spike, after all.

She was lying on her back and he was leaning above her, a hand on either side of her head. It suddenly occurred to her how intimate the situation was, and she didn't know how to handle it. They hadn't even kissed yet, and it wasn't like she was experienced. She was warm, too warm, and he was so close she could nearly feel his body against hers.

She cleared her throat and turned her body on its side so that she wasn't looking at him anymore, and he dropped back on his side, so that he was lying behind her. She wondered if she had hurt his feelings and she felt bad about that, but she didn't want to give him mixed signals--tell him that they were just going to sleep, then stare at him with want. She'd probably already been enough of a tease already without meaning to.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling his breath on the back of her neck and stirring her hair.

"For what?"

"Um . . . If you wanna sleep somewhere else, it's fine. I shouldn't have . . . I mean, I don't want to, and you might, and I . . . I don't wanna be a tease . . ."

She felt his hand on her shoulder lightly, and she began to wonder if perhaps she shouldn't be sleeping under the covers. It was getting too hot to have blankets, even though it was only February. He hand went down her arm gently. Feeling his cool palm against her bare skin was nice. Thank God it was California and it was still warm enough to dress lightly despite the season.

"You're a virgin." It wasn't a question.

She winced a little. "Yeah. That obvious?"

She felt a burst of air against her neck and she heard a breathy chuckle. "A bit." He draped his arm over her side and pulled her so that her back curved against his chest. "Don't worry--I won't do anything if you don't want me to."

"I think I just wanna sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

* * *

Spike _hated_ being noble. All right, so perhaps he didn't hate it, but it wasn't something he went around doing for the fun of it. Drusilla had liked that sort of thing--she was a bit into that sort of knights-in-shining-armour bit. So yeah, Spike could be a noble guy when he wanted.

But sometimes, it could really drive him mad.

Kathryn would have been stupid to not feel the tension between them. Spike had managed to tell himself that there wasn't any, but after today, he couldn't even try to lie anymore. If that almost-kiss in the cemetery wasn't proof enough, he was sitting here, comforting her when he wasn't exactly a comforting guy.

He hadn't meant to arouse her as much as he had. He knew she was sensitive on the neck, it was the whole reason he bit her, but he hadn't expected her reaction, even if he'd known she was going to like it. He'd been doing it to tease her--because Spike could be a tease. He liked being a tease. He liked leaving them wanting more. But when she reacted like that, he wanted to take her then and there. He could have her in so many ways and make her moan and scream out his name so many times she wouldn't know what the hell had happened.

But she was a virgin. Spike had known that since he met her--vampires could smell that sort of thing.

And he cared about her, which was really starting to annoy him. As soon as he had admitted it out loud, he became more aware of it, and he was doing things for her he wouldn't bother doing for anyone else. Time was, if a girl hadn't wanted to shag him, he wouldn't have bothered. Then again, he hadn't met Kathryn looking for a shag, had he?

And it wasn't like he wanted to force it on her--that was more of Angelus' thing. The only girl Spike had ever been with since he was sired was Drusilla. It wasn't that he was opposed to that sort of thing--he was a vampire, after all--but when he was with Drusilla, she was the only one he wanted. Besides, even if he did want to make her, even if he wanted to force her--which he didn't--there was the chip.

But that didn't mean it wasn't difficult and frustrating to have her pressed against him, smelling like she did, and not snogging the hell out of her, his hand snaking under her shirt or into her pants. He wasn't stupid--he knew she had feelings for him, and he did have some small feelings in return. So sleeping in her bed, with her, holding her, knowing that she might die the next day . . . Well, it was tempting.

But no, he was being noble, just like he should be. Just like he had been with Drusilla. Why? Because he cared for her. It had been a long while since he'd just cared for someone. He remembered back before he'd fallen in love with Drusilla, back when he cared for her, but not quite as deeply as he had years later. It was so strange to think that he didn't just immediately love Dru the moment he laid eyes on her. It was hard to remembered the process and it was a bit unnerving that he was starting to are for someone else . . . An average human girl.

He listened to the slow rhythm of her heart and breath as she fell asleep, and remembered what it was like to have heart, and to need to breathe. Having her pressed against him made it so he could feel it, like it was his own. She was so frail like this, so frail and so trusting, sleeping in the arms of her enemy . . . Even if she didn't know it . . . It could have been so easy to kill her, to bite her and drink her blood . . . He wondered if she would still allow him to hold her if she knew what he was. Probably not. She felt safe with him. She'd told her that himself.

He liked knowing that.

When her brother came home and slammed the car door, he thought she was going to wake up, but instead she just switched sides, so that they were facing each other. Her nose was so close to his, her mouth was just as close . . . He could kiss her now and she would never know . . . But what if it woke her?

When the door opened he saw Kyle standing in the doorframe, staring at them. Spike cocked his head a bit to look back, and Kyle just sighed, shook his head, and shut the door behind him.

Spike lied on his back, which was more comfortable, and Kathryn's head found its way onto his chest, and she moved so that she was lying on her stomach, so that his upper arm was right underneath her breasts. If not for the fact she was asleep, he'd say she was purposely trying to make it more difficult to not at least coax her into snogging him. He wondered if she'd ever kissed anybody. He somewhat wished that she hadn't. He'd never been someone's first kiss before. Or first anything, really.

Spike didn't sleep at all. He could have slept if he wanted to, but he didn't. Instead he idly drew on her back with the fingers of his right hand, even when she cuddled closer, so that her upper body covered half of his.

He could hear the birds start to chirp and see light shine through the curtains. He'd held her for hours, lost in his own thoughts, listening to her breathe and her heart beat, and hoping that she didn't die during the test.

When he could hear steady traffic, although since it was Sunnydale even steady traffic meant there was hardly any, he could feel himself dozing off. He would wake up briefly when he heard a car honk or an annoying loud bird chirp, then he'd drift back into sleep.

He thought about Kathryn and the crazy vampire she was going to fight. He wondered how crazy the vampire would be, and how crazy the vampire Buffy had fought had been, and then he wondered about the giant pterodactyl that Kathryn was flying on, and why she was flying on it, and where the hell she'd gotten it. He kept trying to tell her that she wouldn't be able to pass the test if she didn't get off the flying dinosaur that was supposed to be extinct, but she couldn't hear him so she kept flying anyway. Honestly, what was the point of all her training if she wasn't even going to--

"Spike."

Spike awoke with a sharp intake of breath. He had somehow managed to curl up to Kathryn so that both of his arms were around her and he held her to his chest like a large stuffed animal, cuddling against her hair with her arms wrapped around him just as tightly. How long had he been sleeping?

He looked at the speaker of the voice, and wondered if perhaps he was still dreaming.

"Buffy . . . What . . . ?" he moaned tiredly, plopping his head back on the pillow. "Slayer, I just got to sleep . . ."

"What are you doing?"

Her annoying persistence was making his tiredness go away, so he knew it was going to be difficult to get back to sleep. "Well, I _was_ sleeping. What are _you_ doing in _this_ house?"

"Looking for you. Giles said you never came back."

Spike groaned tiredly and closed his eyes. "Can we not do this now, Slayer?"

"Just wanted to see if you were here, is all. Besides, um . . . Kevin--"

"Kyle," he corrected, closing his eyes.

"--yeah, Kyle, he said he wanted me to wake up Kathryn so she could go somewhere with him. He wants to take her and her dad out for like an ice cream breakfast. So, uh . . . wake her up and send her down." She smiled at him then turned to leave the room.

She was halfway out the door when he stopped her. "Last week was your birthday, yeah? Few days ago?"

She turned and looked at him. "Yeah. So?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

She sighed, then shrugged a little. "I don't' know. I guess . . . Well, I was training Kathryn, wasn't I? I mean, yeah, it was my birthday, but sometimes, it's really not worth it. I mean, her living? Bit more important than turning nineteen. I mean, it was nice. Riley, Xander, Willow, Giles--they all got me stuff. Presents are nice. But I didn't wanna bother you with it 'cause, well . . . Honestly? Would you have given me anything?" Spike shook his head. As if he cared about Buffy. "See? And, well, she doesn't know me, she wouldn't know what to buy, and she's got more important things to worry about than whether or not I was a chiffon shirt."

Spike furrowed his brows. It didn't seem right--Buffy actually not caring about her birthday; not demanding everybody to stop what they were doing and bow down at her feet.

"She needs to focus on herself at the moment, focus on what makes her happy, and focus on her survival. It's about her, Spike. My birthday was about me and my friends celebrated it. But I'm not gonna bother her with it 'cause it can't be all about me at the moment. I sorta screwed up with Faith, and I don't wanna screw up with her, too.

"Anyway, wake her up and send her down. She's got some family bonding to do."

Spike frowned when Buffy shut the door, listening to her footsteps go down the hallway. Seeing a side of Buffy that wasn't a controlling, conceited bitch was a bit unnerving.


	16. Chapter 16

So far, Kathryn's day had been pleasant. Waking up with Spike's arms wrapped tightly around her and apparently not caring that her arms were wrapped around him was just a wonderful start for any day, even if by the end of it she could be dead. Arguably, at the end of any day someone could die. It was different, however, knowing that a certain event happening that day would most likely kill her.

Her brother had even took her and her father to get ice cream. Spike had said he was too tired to join them, and that she should spend it with her family anyway and not him, so she said that he could sleep on her bed if he wanted to.

They spent the entire day talking about anything except the test or vampires. They talked about embarrassing incidents that had happened to each of them over the years, or about incredibly stupid things they did. They laughed almost the entire time they ate ice cream and she knew the other people were staring at them like they were insane, but honestly she couldn't care.

She got raspberry swirl, simply because that was her favourite ice cream. She didn't think about the assignments she was probably missing and she didn't think about vampires or how her muscles were still a bit sore, although she could handle it. She didn't wonder about how weak she knew she was and how she was supposed to go to the house when she didn't know where it was. She didn't even wonder if they were going to send a Watcher to her house to escort her there or what--these were things she would have thought about on any other day, but she figured there was no point in wondering about it when she'd find out at the end of the day anyway. As Spike said, she was supposed to be hanging out with her family and having fun. She was relaxing.

She was an excellent procrastinator, and so she'd had years of experience of ignoring pressing matters. And so that was what she did. It was a relief. After worrying about death nearly constantly, it was relaxing to think about everything except that.

She hadn't realized just how long it had been since she'd hung out with her family. With Kyle and her dad working so often and her training, they hadn't really been able to hang out as often as they used to. It was odd to think of everything that had happened since they'd moved to Sunnydale. They had only lived there a little over a month, and already so much had happened.

After they ate ice cream, Kyle took them to a movie--it was some brainless comedy that they all laughed over until their sides hurt, even if most of it wasn't very well written and the jokes really weren't that funny. Mostly, they laughed at how horrible it was, and made fun of it throughout the two hours of crap that was supposed to hilarious but wasn't. Not surprisingly, they were the only ones there--it was early in the morning (when most people didn't go to movies) and it wasn't a good movie anyway so nobody wanted to see it.

The lunch her father took her to after the movie went just as the rest of the day had been going. They laughed over memories, talked about how crappy that comedy was, and joked over everything. It wasn't until her father announced he had to go to work early that the mood was broken.

"But why?" Kathryn found herself whining--actually whining. She wondered how many eighteen year olds would whine about not getting to spend time with their father.

He left a tip on the table as he glanced over the receipt. "Well, I . . . I had to take yesterday off, and so they're making me work early today," he stated, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Oh. They . . . they made you take it off." It was supposed to sound like a question, but she realized that it was more of a statement she made out of realization.

"Yeah." He was still looking at the receipt, but she got the feeling he was just looking at it to avoid looking at her. "Should we go, then?"

She nodded and got out of the chair, pushing it under the table. They paid at the front desk for their lunch and left, walking over to Kyle's car.

"If I could take today off, I would, but . . . but I couldn't, honey," her father said as she slid into the backseat.

She winced. That wasn't something he would say if he thought she was going to live. "There's no need to take a day off, Dad. I'll be fine."

"It's just . . . Well, they said if I was going to take yesterday because my sister was down I had to come in early today and work tomorrow, too." Her father usually had Saturday and Sunday off, and she thought it was a bit stupid that they were making him work Saturday just because he'd taken one day off. "There's this flu going around at my work, and they're short-staffed, and so I--"

"I said it was fine, didn't I?" she snapped angrily as she shut the door. "I'm not going to die, and so there's no need to take any day off at all, okay?"

It was silent as Kyle got into the car and took unnecessary time checking the rear-view mirror and putting his seatbelt on. "They're making you work tomorrow? Lame," Kyle finally said, but Kathryn had the feeling it was to fill the awkward silence.

It didn't really help, though, seeing as the drive to her dad's work was just as awkward, even though Kyle had turned on the radio halfway there.

Kathryn was lost in thought the entire drive there, thinking of everything she had been avoiding the entire day. She wondered just how much stronger a vampire was than a normal human. She'd never fought a vampire without her slayer powers. And even when she did have her powers, she'd had some problems with some. It wasn't easy fighting even with her slayer strength. How could she possibly hope to fare well against one without her slayer strength? She wasn't even that great of a fighter. Thinking on it, she'd never even won a sparring match with Spike, and he was just a human. That really wasn't very encouraging.

She was torn out of her depressing thoughts when the car came to a stop. She didn't know how long the drive had been, seeing as she'd been busy thinking of how she was probably going to die, despite that she had just tried to convince her dad otherwise.

Even though the car had stopped, he dad was still sitting in the passenger seat, staring ahead of himself.

"You're gonna be late," Kathryn pointed out.

He let out a sighed. "I'll just tell 'em I can't go, and if they fire me, so what?" he blurted.

"What? Don't do that! You can't get fired, Dad!"

"Yeah, but--"

"Dad, I'm going to be fine. It's just one measly vampire--I've killed plenty. It'll be a bit harder, but I'll be just fine," she insisted, despite knowing that the word 'plenty' was a bit of an exaggeration.

Her dad turned in the seat so that he could look at her. "I'm not--I'm not saying you can't handle yourself, but--but it's just . . . It's just, well, I . . . honey, they made me do it. They made me take your powers and I feel . . . I feel . . . bad about it."

"It's not your fault. Besides, humans fight vampires, too, you know. Spike fights them all the time."

Her dad blinked and furrowed his eyebrows, as if thinking over what she said. He looked at her for a few seconds. "Honey, uh . . . Spike, well, he's . . ." He looked like he was struggling with what he wanted to say, and Kathryn found herself starting to get a little nauseous. She understood the fact her father was just worrying, but it wasn't' exactly making her feel confident about the situation. The more he worried, the less sure of herself she was, and she knew he didn't mean to, but it wasn't exactly going to help her if he kept it up.

"He's got more experience than you," Kyle finished for her dad. Her dad looked at Kyle. "Dad, it's all right. He's been training her, and he's really good. And you're going to be late. And for the love of God, do _not_ quit or get yourself fired."

Her dad looked like he was about to yell, but then he just nodded and unbuckled himself.

"See ya later, Dad." She forced the cheery tone.

He turned back at her and opened his mouth, his hazel eyes watering. She knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell her he loved her.

"Don't," she warned, knowing that if he did say it, it would make her cry. All that would sound like was a goodbye.

He nodded, then got out of the car, shutting the door loudly.

"Why did you do that?" Kyle asked.

"Because it would sound like he's never gonna see me again."

"Now he's just gonna worry for the rest of the night that he's a bad father and that you'll think he doesn't love you and if something happens, he's going to regret not saying it anyway."

"I'm not going to die, Kyle," she stated firmly, although she had her own doubts.

Kyle just sighed and started the car while she watched her dad walk across the parking lot. Her eyes were stinging when she watched him walk off. It was hard not to be angry with her dad for not thinking she would make it, but it was worse because she knew her anger came from the fact he was just voicing her own doubts.

As the car drove away, her throat tightened and her eyes burned. Without warning Kyle, she opened the door and hopped out of the moving car, tripping on the ground and falling forward, scraping the palm of her hand a little and a sharp pain shot through her knee and up her thigh. She quickly stood up and dusted off her pants as she ran towards her dad. "Dad!" she shouted.

Her father turned around, his longish dark hair whipping in front of his eyes. She flung herself into his arms and he squeezed her so tightly and held her so close that her feet left the ground for a second. "Daddy, I love you," she said, and burst into tears.

She heard him choke a little and sniff, and she felt wetness sliding down her cheeks that wasn't from her. "I love you, too, honey, I love you so much," he muttered quickly, his voice breaking and cracking several times.

"I won't die, I promise." She didn't know how she managed to say it, seeing as she was gulping for air and gasping out her tears. She pulled away from him, practically wrenching out of his grasp. Tears streamed down his face, more than she ever remembered seeing him cry. That only made her cry harder. "I promise I'll come back, okay?" she was sucking in air awkwardly as she spoke. She tried to stop crying, but she couldn't stop.

"I love you," her dad repeated, grabbing the side of her face and jerking her forward so that her face crashed into his chest. She grabbed his shirt and started sobbing, not even caring anymore. "Came back to me. You better come back to me, Kathryn, you hear? You better stake that vampire dead."

She nodded, unable to talk while she was crying. He was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn't mind. She just wanted to keep hugging him. She didn't want to leave her dad. She didn't want him to go into work worrying about her. But he couldn't possibly take the day off--what was he suppose to tell his boss? That his daughter might die because she was locked in a house with a vampire?

"I'll come back," she managed after having to calm herself down. It had taken a lot of her willpower to stop bawling. "I love you, Daddy."

She pulled away from his chest and wiped her cheeks, trying not to keep sobbing but instead started making odd choking noises in her attempt to stop.

He held her head, a hand on either side of her face, and stared at her. He stared at her, eyes red and wet, cheek shining, his lip quivering. He brushed her hair away, and it was then she noticed some of her bangs had stuck to her crying face. "Thank you for saying it," he said, the patted the side of her face. "I better get in there otherwise I won't let you leave."

She let out a few breathy chuckles, then sniffed a little, not wanting to walk away from him. She nodded, then they both hugged tightly again, before he turned away and walked off. She hurried back to the car, refusing to turn around and look at him, knowing that if she did she would just burst into hysterics again.

Thankfully, Kyle didn't say anything as she buckled in the back seat. He just simply started driving again, acting as if she hadn't just burst out of his car and made a scene in front of several people in the parking lot. She folded her arms and stared at the window, crying almost silently. She would breathe in shakily and sharply every now and then and sniff for the most part, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, her chest didn't feel tight. It felt like a pressure she hadn't even known was there had been removed. Her head was strangely clear, just a little stuffy from the crying.

When the car stopped, she undid her seat belt and got out, shutting the door behind her. It wasn't until she took a few steps towards the house that she realized he had driven her to Rupert's. "What the hell?"

Kyle stood next to her, fiddling with his car keys. "If you go home, the council will show up at our house. If they show up, I'm going to do something stupid and get my ass beat. They had to restrain me yesterday." Kathryn frowned. Her brother was protective, but she hadn't thought he'd be stupid enough to take on a group of trained watchers.

Actually, no, he was that stupid.

She turned towards him and wiped underneath her eyes, which were still wet. "Oh. Well . . . I'll see ya later, okay?" Once again, she forced the casual greeting so it didn't sound like they might not ever see each other again.

Her brother pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly, and she felt tears start to fall again, burning her eyes. He pulled away and looked at her. "Don't cry," he told her, her voice shaking. "If you cry, I'm gonna sob, and I can't do that, I'm your big brother, and big brothers don't weep like babies." Despite the fact he was trying to sound funny and cool, his voice cracked.

"Kyle, I . . . I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the demon stuff," she mumbled awkwardly, something she had been feeling guilty about for a long while.

"Don't apologize, you'll just make me--" He let out a choking sob and he suddenly turned away from her, and she could hear him sniffing while he held his face in his hands.

Kathryn had never seen Kyle cry. Not even after some of their screaming matches when she said some downright cruel things to him, or when his girlfriend of two years dumped him, or even the time her dad had threatened to kick him out of the house after they got into a three-hour argument because he'd found Kyle taking ecstasy.

She reached forward and touched his back, and he jerked away from her. "Kyle . . . It's not your fault. You tried to help me so many times, tried to convince me to take that boxing class, so don't . . . so don't cry, I'll be fine . . ." She was reaching for things to say, knowing that nothing would make him stop crying, but she tried anyway.

He turned back around to face her, shaking his head. "Kathryn, please . . . please don't die."

"I won't," she promised, sniffing a little.

"If you die and I convinced Dad to move here for no reason . . . I'm going to resurrect you just so I can kill you again, you hear? When Angel told me about Faith, I knew she was going to die, and I knew--I knew you were going to be Called, and I . . . I had to get you here, I had to make you meet Giles, I had to--I had to--and I--I'm so sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, it's all my fault--"

She hugged him suddenly, and he started sobbing into her shoulder, which was awkward since he was taller than she was. She didn't even care that he had lied to her that day he told her to get the book. She didn't care that Aidan really hadn't called in sick that day she invited Spike into the house and he freaked out.

"Don't say that, Kyle, you did what was best. If we hadn't moved here, who would have trained me? You knew what was best, and--and I'm gonna live because of you."

He pulled away from her. "When you get back, you call me, okay? You let me know as soon as you get here. I don't want you walking all the way home in the dark, okay? Not without your powers. And for the love of God, you sneak some damn weapons in there, understand?"

"And if I . . . if I die . . . um, I'll have someone let you know . . ."

He didn't try to tell her to stop being so negative. He simply nodded, tears streaming down his face. He brought her into another hug, albeit it a brief one. "I'll see you later, sis."

She nodded. "Kyle, I love you," she told him, not wanting him to leave without hearing it.

He smiled at her. "I love you too, sis." They stared at each other for a few seconds longer until he got in his car and drove away. Kathryn didn't move from the spot until his car had turned the corner and she couldn't see him anymore.

* * *

Kathryn's scent surrounded him. He could smell her on his chest and on his pillow. The blankets he wrapped himself up in smelled like her as well. At first he was confused as to why he was so warm and comfortable and why he could smell her as much as he could. Then he remembered her father had allowed him to spend the night, and she had curled into his body, clutching him as she slept.

She wasn't holding him anymore, but he was lying on his side and he figured she was behind him. Eh turned around and went to wrap his arm around her, but all he felt was the mattress. He felt around for a bit, then suddenly remembered Buffy waking him up and asking him to send Kathryn down.

He quickly sat up and looked around her room, noticing how dark it was. There was no light streaming in through the curtains, which meant that it was night. Certainly she would have woke him up when she got home, right?

Panic hit him. What if she'd never come home? What if the Council had taken her already, and he hadn't even gotten to wish her good luck? He opened her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs. "Kathryn?" he called expectantly when he noticed someone was in the living room.

It was Kyle. "She's, uh . . . I dropped her off at Giles's," he told him.

He didn't need to hear anything else.

He quickly grabbed his leather duster, which he had laid on the railing before he'd headed upstairs to go into her room and tell her the bad news, and put it on as he hurried out the door.

How could he have been so stupid? Hadn't he realized she would probably go to Giles' house? That was where the weapons were. That was where the former watcher was. Hadn't he realized that he would sleep until night? Why didn't he stop to think that he probably wouldn't have seen her again until she left for the test? Why the hell hadn't he given her advice before she left or gave her good luck or grabbed her and kissed her passionately or done something productive with his time rather than shake her awake, tell her that her brother wanted to take her somewhere, then roll over and go back to sleep?

He was such a bloody idiot. He'd had all night to tell her that he liked her. He'd had all night to give her good luck. He'd had all night to snog her senseless. Even if she was a virgin and she didn't want sex, that didn't mean he couldn't snog her! What the hell was his problem?

He was at the top of the block when he saw Giles and Kathryn (who was wearing a jacket,) both walking towards the Citroen. "Oi!" he shouted, running faster. Thank God he was a vampire otherwise he would have run out of breath awhile ago.

They both looked up. He came to a stop in front of Kathryn, who was as pale as a ghost, but she smiled at him. "Spike!" she shouted, then wrapped her arms around him.

Spike was breathing heavily, hardly daring to believe he'd just run across town to say goodbye to her. "I tried to get here sooner," he told her through his slightly laboured breaths, holding her just as tightly as she held him. He wasn't even going to try and pretend he didn't like her anymore. He wasn't even going to lie to himself and say he wasn't attached, nor was he going to try and hide that fact from Giles.

"Spike," Giles began urgently, "the Council called. I _have_ to get her to the house within twenty minutes or they will send someone to her home as well as mine, Buffy's, and Buffy's friends, and anywhere else they think we might be hiding her. I cannot allow others to be hurt because of you."

Spike pulled away and glared at Giles, then looked down at Kathryn, who looked like she was about to puke. "Don't go," he ordered, holding the side of her face and brushing away her hair. "I'll--I'll fight them. I'll tear every last one of their throats out. Let them send their special bloody ops; I don't care. Just don't go. Sod the rules. Sod the Council."

She pulled away from him, shaking her head. She pushed his hands off of her face. "Spike, you know you can't do that. You know I have to do this."

"But, luv, they're just stupid uptight toffs who don't give a damn and--and it's not bloody fair, and I'll kill every one they send my way, I don't care--"

"Spike, I can't let you do that. They'll hurt my family. They'll hurt Buffy. I've got holy water and a stake in my jacket. Spike, really, I _have_ to--"

"Fine, I'll--I'll come with you, I'll sneak in, I'll kill him for you--"

Giles put his hand on Spike's shoulder. "Spike, I can assure you that--"

"Get off!" he spat, yanking his shoulder from Giles, then turned to looked at her. "Kathryn, you don't have to--"

"Spike, dammit, listen to me!" she shouted, then grabbed his shirt, and crushed his mouth against hers.

For a second Spike didn't know what was going on, but then he realized she was kissing him. It was hard and awkward and before he could so much as grab her shoulders and hold her near him, or deepen it, she pushed away from him.

He stared at her, stunned, as she quickly got into the passenger side and slammed the door shut just as Giles closed the door of the driver's side.

Before he could yank the door open and pull her out, forcing her to come with him as he ran somewhere to hide her, the car sped off. Spike considered running after them, but then he realized that it would be pointless and she would never let him do that. She would never do anything to put her family in danger.

God, he hated selfless people.

* * *

A few hours ago, she wouldn't have believed she could do it. She would never have believed that she had the guts to grab Spike and kiss him, even after their almost-kiss from the night before. But she had spent the entire time at Rupert's waiting for Spike to show so that she could kiss him, because she wasn't' about to die un-kissed.

She had never really liked anybody enough to kiss them, and after the incident with Angel in her brother, she was too nervous to go up and flirt with anyone, let alone kiss him. She liked to blame her brother for her not ever having a boyfriend, but the fact was, Kathryn had been just as much to blame--she'd been too shy to flirt. She'd been too afraid to take her boyfriend home to meet her brother and find out that he was crazy. She'd been so concerned with how people thought about her after her brother had attacked Angel that she hadn't even tried.

But Kathryn wasn't about to go off to probably die without ever kissing anybody. Hopefully she would live and she could deal with the consequences of kissing him. She wasn't stupid--Spike had wanted to kiss her the night before, so she figured he probably wouldn't be mad at her. She was just berating herself for blaming her brother because she hadn't had any friends when she knew that if she'd just gathered up the courage to flirt back and decided to stop using her brother as an excuse then she would have kissed before.

She was busy going through every stupid thing she ever did, thinking of every guy who had attempted to flirt with her that she quickly snubbed, and thinking of every mean thing she ever said to anybody when Rupert interrupted her.

"Why did you do that?"

She looked at him incredulously. Didn't he get it? "Because I like him, Rupert. I've never kissed anybody before and I . . . I might not get a chance to."

He was quiet for a moment. "Kathryn . . . Spike . . ."

She sighed, waiting for him to tell her that he was a pillock or whatever other English terms he could think of to call Spike as an asshole. She had been told time and time again not to get attached because that might make it harder for Spike to cope if she died. Well, at least, that's what Spike had told her they thought. And maybe they did worry about that a little, but Kathryn had to wonder if perhaps most of their warning had been fuelled by their irrational hatred of Spike. It was just pointless for him to tell her the same warning and expect her to believe it was because they were worried about how it would affect the outcome of the test when they were on their way to it.

"Spike, as much as he denies it . . . has feelings for you."

Kathryn felt awkward. Sure, it was one thing to think he had feelings for her, but it was different to have someone outright tell her. It was obvious, of course, but still, hearing it spoken made it more realistic. "I, um, I suspected. He told you this?"

"He may as well have. I'm going to ask you something and I demand your honesty. Do you understand?"

She nodded, not quite sure she liked where this was going. His tone suggested she wasn't going to like the question.

"Do you have feelings for him in return? I need you to think through your answer before you give it."

Of course she did. She wasn't in love with him--she hadn't known him for very long--but she certainly did have feelings for him. "Yeah, I do."

He sighed and she thought he looked disappointed. "Naturally. Kathryn, I cannot pretend to like the fact you two have . . . become as close as you are. I've told you my opinion of him and warned you against becoming attached, and you chose to do so anyway." Kathryn bristled--it wasn't like she chose to do anything. She couldn't choose to like someone over another or choose to dislike someone. And she felt no shame in that so she wasn't going to avoid Spike just because Rupert thought he was a jerk. "However, it is your decision."

"It's not a decision, Rupert. I like him--I didn't set out to go crushing on him to rebel or anything. Seriously."

He pursed his lips and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "That being said . . . if you survive, do you plan on taking your relationship . . . further?"

"What, like being his girlfriend? Um, I don't know . . . maybe . . . probably. If he wants to, I guess." She blushed and looked away for Rupert. He wasn't her dad and so it really wasn't any of his business whether or not she was going to ask Spike out on a date.

"Then perhaps, if you survive . . . it might be best not to speak of the Cruciamentum."

Before Kathryn could ask what he meant by that, the car came to a halt and she lurched forward, her stomach flipping unpleasantly by the suddenness of it. She had a feeling he had planned for the conversation to be ended like that, seeing as he had been silent for most of the ride and it had conveniently ended then.

The passenger door open and before she could see who it was, Rupert unbuckled her seat belt for her and the man who had opened her door grabbed her arm, hauling her out of the seat. As soon as she was on the ground, the man slammed the door shut and started forcibly leading her to the house. He was parked by the curb.

"Wait, sir . . . Tell him something for me, please?"

"I am not allowed to speak to Mister Giles. He isn't allowed to leave his car. We have to take every precaution--we cannot have him do something stupid, now can we?"

"Like what?" she asked angrily.

"Such as attempt to take you from this house."

"I just need you to tell him that if I die, he needs to call my brother. You can't even tell him that?"

He stopped walking and looked down at her. His eyebrows were furrowed. At first she thought what she had said had touched his heart. As idiotic as it was, she thought perhaps he was going to let her go and tell her to run home, and to forget the test altogether.

Then she realized he had only stopped because they were in front of the door. He opened it, threw her inside, and she heard a click from outside, meaning he had locked the door.

She threw herself against the door and started pounding on it, as futile as that was, then grabbed the doorknob, twisting it a few times, despite the fact she had heard it lock.

She let out a long sigh and realized that there was very little light. There were some lamps, but the light bulbs were either low or had a very low wattage, so that she could barely see.

Wondering if she was allowed to sneak weapon into the house, and thankful that they hadn't patted her down just in case she wasn't, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a stake from an inside pocket. She also had a flask of holy water to protect herself.

She clutched the stake and walked with her back facing the wall, so that nobody could sneak up behind her. Her heart was thudding painfully hard in her chest and she could hear her blood whooshing past her ear. She tried to keep her breath steady and quiet so that she wouldn't hyperventilate.

Kathryn absolutely hated the dark, so the fact the entire place was dimly lit and a bit hard to see in wasn't helping matters any. All of the windows were boarded up so she couldn't escape, and when she found the backdoor it had been boarded up.

She slowly searched the first floor, trying to remember the layout so if she needed to run to a certain room, she could. She had no idea why any room would hold any more interest to her than another, but she figured that it might come in handy.

When nothing appeared out of place and nobody attacked, she slowly advanced up the dark stairs, still keep her back to the wall, which meant she was walking up them sideways. There was literally no light on the stairs and none coming from upstairs, which meant she saw nothing but black.

She could heart her heart pounding in her ears and her breath amplified in sound as well. Her whole body was shaking and she felt weak, like she might collapse at any minute. Damn the dark. She had half a mind to run screaming back down the stairs and wait for the vampire to find her there.

She walked quicker, almost to the point where she was running, and her panicked state made her breath heavily ,forgetting that she was trying to stay quiet, and she bolted up the second half of the stairs, kicking open the door at the top and searching the wall beside it for a light switch. When she felt the light switch against her palm, she switched it on, and light filled the room.

"Hello," came a chilling voice, and she spun to face it, take several large steps away from the stairs, in fear the vampire would push her down them and she'd break her neck.

"Hello," she greeted in return, lifting the stake up higher. The first thing she noticed was the vampire was female and not male, like she had been expecting. Kathryn thought she was rather pretty--she wasn't even vamped out.

She tilted her head, her long, raven-coloured hair shimmering in the light.

"The moon told me you were coming."

* * *

A/N--Yes, I am ending it there. You'll just have to see if Kathryn or "the vampire" dies. Whoever "the vampire" might be. --grins--


	17. Chapter 17

Spike paced in the living room, ignoring the stares he got from Buffy. Her precious Scoobs were actually there for once, and he wondered if they'd shown up to send her off, or if they'd been here accidentally, assuming Kathryn would spend the day at her house. Buffy was sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. "Stop pacing, Spike. You're making me anxious."

Spike shot a nasty glare in her direction. "Can't you at least pretend to bloody care about the situation, Summers?"

"I do care, Spike. I don't know why you think I don't."

"Well, I don't know, maybe 'cause you're all avoiding her? You and your precious friends are really doing a bang-up job with those souls that make you so much better than me. I can just feel the concern coming off of you seeing as you're never bloody here."

Buffy sighed. "Spike . . . Look, this isn't easy. We care just as much as you do."

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Willow slowly stood up from the couch. "Are you okay, Spike? Do you want something?"

"Ah, leave him alone. We all know he's just doing it for attention," Xander aired loudly, as if Spike wasn't even there.

"I'm not doin' it for attention, Harris. I like her." Saying it out loud to the Scoobies was different than telling Giles because he'd practically forced it out of him. He kept pacing, despite the fact he could feel their eyes burning through him. Even Willow, who had gotten off of the couch presumably to comfort him, was suddenly still, her green eyes watching him pace.

After a few seconds of tense silence, his footsteps the only sound, Willow broke the silence. "So, um . . . Sorry you missed her."

Spike stopped pacing long enough to look at her, confused. What did she mean by that? He shook his head, still pacing, imagining all the ways a vampire could kill Kathryn and leave her dead body bleeding on the floor.

"I mean, you _just_ missed her. They left like right before you showed up."

"No, I saw her. Just as she was leavin'. She kissed me." He stopped pacing, remembering how urgent and hard it had been--it could barely be considered a kiss so much as their mouths bumping together fiercely and quickly. He knew why she kissed him--she thought she was going to die and she probably didn't want to die without kissing him at least once.

"Did you kiss her back?" Buffy asked.

Spike, who was busy staring at nothing, shook his head, shoving the recent memory of her mouth on his away. "No, er . . . too quick. Just grabbed me. Didn't even catch on 'til it was over. Would have, though, had we more . . . time."

He felt Willow's hand on his shoulder and he looked at her. Her green eyes were wide even though her brows were furrowed. "She'll be fine."

He would have been comforted except for the fact uncertainty dripped off every word of her sentence.

The phone rang.

Spike sprinted towards the phone. Nobody moved to stop him or get there before he did--it seemed like they figured he deserved to be the first to know if it was about Kathryn. He yanked it off the receiver in the middle of the second ring.

"'Lo?"

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end. "Is this the home of Rupert Giles?"

"What? Yeah, it is. What's this about?" he asked, hoping it wasn't a call to inform them Kathryn was dead, although he figured if Giles wasn't waltzing in with her and the watchers were calling it probably wasn't a good thing.

"I am calling merely to pass on a message. If Mister Giles returns without Kathryn, tell him that he is to inform Kathryn Daltry's brother of her passing. Do you understand?"

Spike nearly broke the phone in half. "You called over that? What, you think Giles doesn't have a _brain?_ You honestly think that he'd forget to call her _brother?_" he yelled, clutching the phone so tightly he worried he might break it accidentally and there wasn't any point in breaking something accidentally.

"I apologize, sir, I am merely passing on a message."

"Well I don't wanna listen to you prattle on about us callin' her bloody brother, yeah? I wanna hear about your sodding test!" he shouted.

The man on the other end sighed. "The Cruciamentum is going as planned. Kathryn went into the house not moments ago, and Drusilla is in place."

"Oh, well, isn't that just--" Spike froze, thinking over the sentence again. He couldn't have heard that right.

"Sir? Is everything all right?"

Spike blinked a few times. "Wait, what was that? The other name you said."

"The vampire she is to fight is called Drusilla."

"Drusilla?" he repeated, still a little stunned. Kathryn was fighting Drusilla.

The man on the other end was silent for a second. "Who is this?"

Spike hung up, staring at the phone for a second, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. He thought of how Buffy and Giles had been making odd comments about Drusilla and how he would feel if she were to die. They hadn't been comparing Drusilla dying to Kathryn dying at all--they had been wondering how he would take it if Kathryn staked her. They had known who Kathryn was going to fight.

He turned away from the phone and saw that Buffy was walking towards him cautiously. Spike was in the kitchen. Well, sod that. As much as he liked Kathryn, he wasn't about to let Drusilla die--and nobody in that room was going to stop him. He launched himself over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and made a run for the door.

Buffy grabbed his arm and spun him around, raising her fist to attack him, He blocked her hit and punched her right in the face. The chip activated, sharp pains ricocheting off of his skull, the white-hot migraine blinding. He grabbed his forehead, growling in pain.

And Buffy struck him right in the face.

* * *

"What?" Kathryn asked, confused at what she'd said.

The vampire slowly started walking towards her, and Kathryn, just as slowly, started taking steps backwards. "The moon. It told me you were coming." She said it like it was a normal thing to say; as if the moon spoke to everybody. Her English lilt made her sound so childlike and frail. She didn't really seem like someone who could kill Kathryn, but Kathryn knew better. She wasn't about to get cocky just because she looked so breakable.

"Oh . . . uh, what did it say about me?" She really couldn't think of anything else to say. After all, it wasn't like she talked to people who spoke to celestial objects on a daily basis. What else could she say? And she wasn't about to call her crazy to her face--that might just piss her off.

The vampire reached up and slowly stroked her own cheek with the back of her nails. "So many things. You're like paper--pink li'l tissue, and so easy to tear. But it's all a façade. It's not real. All the paper falling from the sky right into my lap, and you're . . . not like the rest. Hmm."

"Well . . . It's always good to be unique," she tried to joke feebly. Her heel caught on a rug that was bunched up and she stumbled a bit, her heart leaping into her throat. She corrected her posture, keeping her eyes firmly on the vampire before her.

"Not really. It hurts. Whispers dancing around like li'l knives, slicing every inch of you. Condemned, you see, and feared." She was staring off at something, something past Kathryn, but she wasn't about to chance a look behind her. She was still petting the side of her face, this time with the pads of her fingers. "Hmm, you're a slayer. Different than other girls. I knew when I saw you, so tiny, what you would be. I had to stop it, but . . . blue and red birds screaming through the night, and my boy doesn't like getting shot."

Kathryn simply nodded. Perhaps if she hadn't been in a life-or-death situation she would have tried to make sense out of the girl's ramblings, but at the moment she couldn't think of anything other than how to get out of the house alive.

"I saw you with him. And I couldn't have that, you see. He's in you now. Tangled up inside your head."

Kathryn's back hit something solid, and she realized what an idiot she'd been. The vampire had backed her up against a wall. Her heart started hammering in her chest as the vampire started walking faster, her hand away from her face. Kathryn went to run past her, but the vampire was suddenly in front of her, grabbing her jaw, and slamming her against the wall again.

"I have to stop it," she snapped, narrowing her beautiful green eyes. "I have to stop you before you blunder into his head and chest."

Kathryn thrust her stake forward, but the vampire easily batted her arm away. She was stronger than she looked. She could feel the tips of the vampires' nails digging slightly into her skin. The vampire leaned forward, but Kathryn lifted her knee, ramming it as hard as she could into the vampire's side.

She doubled over and Kathryn used that moment to push the vampire off and run past her, eyeing the large room for anything that could help her. It was like an attic, but she had a feeling it hadn't always been. It looked like someone had knocked down all the walls.

Suddenly, she found herself flying through the air, wind whipping past her face, and almost as soon as her piercing scream left her mouth all of the wind was knocked out of her lungs. The vampire had grabbed her arm and flung her across the room like one would throw a rag doll, and Kathryn had smacked, face first, into a wall.

She fell, hitting her back on the ground, and tried to suck in air but she couldn't breathe for one horrible second that lasted forever. Her stake rolled along the old wooden floor, stopping inches from a dirty rug. Finally, she sucked in a lungful of air and started coughing, tears prickling the sides of her eyes.

She rolled over onto her stomach and crawled over to her stake, but as soon as she grabbed it, she felt a sharp kick to the gut. She grunted out in pain, glancing up at her attacker, just be kicked in the face. Her cheek stung briefly then burned, and she could feel something warm sliding across her skin.

The vampire kicked her in the side again, and Kathryn rolled over onto her back, coughing, still clutching her stake tightly. The vampire raised her foot, aiming right for Kathryn's face, but before she could stomp on her nose, Kathryn sat up and stabbed the woman right in the thigh. She cried out and Kathryn yanked out the stake, standing up and stumbling backwards, holding up the stake threateningly, some blood dripping off of the end. Her side burned with each breath.

They stared at each other, blood making the vampire's red pants an even darker red. The fabric was torn, but she couldn't really tell where the pants ended and where the bloody skin began.

They started circling each other, and Kathryn kept in mind the location of the stairs, so as not to be tricked into walking near them and getting thrown down. Her whole body was shaking and she was sure it was from both fear and adrenaline.

The vampire was wearing a fancy red tank top and was favouring the leg Kathryn had stabbed. There was something familiar about her. She knew she had seen her somewhere before, but she couldn't place where. The way she moved; the way she spoke . . . So graceful and calm, so snake-like . . .

"Pictures all torn and flitting by, my dear, that's all it is." Kathryn could tell by her tone that she was taunting her, but she didn't understand what it meant at all. "You'll see soon enough--you'll know when I kill you."

The vampire charged at her, inhumanly fast, and Kathryn stumbled backwards trying to avoid her. She managed to get out of the way just barely, and turned to face her attacker again. Kathryn ran at her, trying her hardest to punch her, swinging at her, but she managed to dodge every one of Kathryn's punches, her green eyes alight with glee.

It unnerved Kathryn how she hadn't vamped out. It unnerved her how pretty she was; how soft and elegant she looked. She hated the way her dark hair moved around her head smoothly while she ducked and dodged, casually batting away each of her punches.

Kathryn, fed up, slammed her foot down on the woman's toes. That distracted her and she instinctively looked down long enough to give Kathryn an opening, and hit her in the mouth with the strongest jab she could muster. The vampire started falling backwards but managed to stay upright by wind-milling her arms a bit, and then Kathryn stepped back, side-kicking her right in the stab wound, then spinning and using the momentum to backhand her across the face.

She fell to the ground and Kathryn kicked her in the side as hard as she could. She grunted and Kathryn went to kick her again, but the vampire grabbed her ankle and tugged. The back of Kathryn's head bounced off of the wood and it dazed her for a moment, but when she noticed the vampire standing, she kicked her in the stab wound again, crawling backwards awkwardly, using only one hand since the other was still holding the stake.

She stood up, knees shaking, side burning with pain, and her breath laboured. She was walking backwards, looking around, seeing a table with nothing on it and a chair that had been knocked over. The vampire was stalking towards her and she walked backwards, eyes flitting between her attacker and the chair.

The vampire noticed and charged at her, one hand grabbing the wrist of the hand she held the stake in, and the other clutching her jaw, slamming her against the nearest wall. She slammed her hand against the wall. She did it a second time, and the stake fell from her hand.

Kathryn gasped. She wasn't supposed to drop the stake. A vampire always had a weapon--she had to keep track of hers.

Still holding onto Kathryn, she yanked her away from that wall and charged over to the table, smacking her down on that, a sharp pain in the small of her back. She was kicking out, thrashing around, trying to get off of the table, while the vampire leaned over her and smiled. In a flash of inspiration, Kathryn reached into her jacket and pulled out the flask. She hadn't screwed it on very tightly, so she could easily open it with her thumb, the lid popping off and clinking against the metal. She threw some water on her face.

She immediately let go of Kathryn and held her face, screaming hysterically. Steam was coming off of her face. Kathryn threw some more on her back, watching as she steamed and shrieked shrilly.

Kathryn hopped off of the table and put the lid back on, since it was still connected to the flask by the metal attachment, and screwed it on, but not too tightly, in case she needed it again, and put it back in her jacket, breathing shakily, not taking her eyes off of her enemy.

"It burns!" she cried, fanning her face, sobbing like a little child. "It burns! Make it stop! Make it stop!" It actually brought tears to her eyes, the way she was screaming and sobbing, trying to pat out the burning on her back at the same time she tried to pat her face.

Since she was closer to the chair than the stake, which was still over by the wall she'd been thrust against, she stomped as hard as she could on the table leg. It snapped and fell to the floor, clattering. She bent down and picked it up, ignoring the vampire's sobs.

Boy, when Rupert had told her she was going to fight a crazy vampire, she hadn't realized what he meant. She'd been expecting someone more like Kralik, seeing as Buffy had described what she could about him.

The vampire fell to her knees, sobbing into her palms, crying as if a child had died. Kathryn walked over to her and raised the stake, and faltered when she raised her head, tears streaming down her charred face, her green eyes glittering.

"I don't wanna die," she managed through her choking gasps. "The stars, they won't take me! They scream at me and laugh and I don't wanna die, all stuck in the dirt with worms gnawing at me. I miss the stars, they shine. Don't take it from me, please! Please!" She stared up at Kathryn, looking pathetic.

Kathryn couldn't afford to feel sympathy for the creature trying to kill her. She raised the broken chair leg higher.

"They sparkle in the night, like li'l bursts of colour in the black!" she shouted, as if that could help her. She clutched onto Kathryn's jacket, like she was begging her. "They know things; they whisper. And they won't take me! I can't! I can't leave!" she sobbed pathetically, and Kathryn knocked the vampire's hands off of her jacket, lifting the chair leg. "My boy needs me! My li'l Spike!"

Kathryn froze, makeshift stake steady.

No. No, she couldn't have heard that right. Things started falling into place. Things Spike had told her about Drusilla and some of the things she had been saying all night. But it couldn't be. She had to be mistaken.

"No. No, you can't . . . you're not . . ." She took a few steps back, shaking her head. "You're . . . Drusilla?"

She nodded sadly, still whimpering and sniffling.

Kathryn wanted to vomit. Drusilla? They pitted her against Drusilla?

In her moment of hesitation and confusion, Drusilla stood up and went to hit her, but the quick movement of Dru snapped Kathryn out of her guilty trance and she leaned her head back, the fist passing in front of her nose by centimetres. She went to retaliate with a punch, but Drusilla grabbed her fist. Kathryn ran Drusilla through with the makeshift stake, it sliding into her gut and popping out of her back.

Kathryn winced. Because of the position they were standing in she couldn't have staked her through the heart, but she figured being stabbed in the stomach had to slow her down a little. Drusilla clutched the wound and stumbled backwards, crying again. She looked disgusting, eyes swollen, wet, and red with tears, parts of her skin still steaming slightly, blood dripping down her face from her burn wounds. She pulled her hands away and whimpered, staring at them as if she'd never seen them before.

Kathryn grabbed Drusilla by the throat and thrust her against the wall, her head making a thunking noise when it bounced off. "Who sired you?" Kathryn demanded, holding the stake above her heart, ready to plunge it if she needed to.

Her head was whirring. She had to know before she staked her. Did Spike know? He should know. She had to tell him. Out of all the people in the world, why her? Why did she have to be sired?

"Angelus," she answered distractedly, staring at one of her blood covered hands, completely uninterested by the fact she had a stake inches from her. "My daddy never comes home--leaves me all alone to play with the other boys and girls. I miss him so."

Kathryn felt sick. Perhaps it was because of all the wonderful stories Spike had told her of the vampire in front of her, but it felt more like murder than staking. Still, she had no choice. It just sickened her that the Council had chained her up for however long, barely feeding her, locking her in a dark cabinet and only letting her out to murder a slayer.

"I can kill you where you stand, dearie," she whispered darkly, and their eyes met. Kathryn clutched the stake tighter and pressed it against her chest, the tip of the stake right on her sternum. "You're naught but tissue now. So easy to tear. You can come at me all you like, but these? Just flesh wounds. Tiny li'l bits of pain. I can still move better than you." She lifted her hand to her mouth and slowly licked the blood from her palm. "Daddy hurt me more than that. Daddy worked his way inside me, tearing me up, burning even my insides. I clawed at him and he kept me hidden, spilling his dead seed all over. Grandmummy was ever so disappointed--she wanted him all to herself. This is nothing compared to how he can hurt me."

Kathryn pressed the stake her harder, but not hard enough to break her skin or tear her shirt, still looking into her eyes. She told herself to stake her, to thrust it into her heart, but at the same time, she thought of everything Spike ever said about the girl before her.

"If you kill me, you know they're just going to chain you up in the dark again until the next slayer comes along," Kathryn revealed haughtily. "You'll never see the stars again or . . . or . . ." She thought wildly, trying to think of some reason to convince Dru not to kill her. "Or flowers. You'll never see any flowers ever again. Ever. You'll never grow another daisy and you'll never see jasmine flowers. And birds? Forget it. You'll just be chained up, stuck, and in the dark. And when the next slayer comes around, you'll either die, or kill her and get locked up again."

Drusilla stared at Kathryn, her mouth opening slightly. "They wouldn't dare."

Kathryn nodded, her throat drying. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.

"They would dare."

Drusilla eyed the stake pressed against her chest, then idly licked her palm again, then tilted her head to the side. "Are you going to kill me then?" she inquired curiously, as if she was asking about the weather and not about her life.

"Not kill you," she revealed. "Hide you."

* * *

A/N--And thus the heroine makes a dumb decision. I know, nobody can be perfect, right? Aw well. Just wanted to tell you all how much your reviews mean to me (even the anonymous ones!) and to encourage them. Don't be shy! Also, I've planned this out from the very beginning--her hiding Drusilla. It WAS NOT a spur of teh moment thing. Nothing about this story is spur of the moment--except for perhaps the, uh . . . little _theme_ of the male OCs' names. I assure you, I used teh name Kyle because I like it, and naming the father Stan was an accident. I didn't catch onto the South Park reference until twenty pages later.


	18. Chapter 18

It really didn't surprise Spike that he was chained to the bathtub again. After all, Buffy had known exactly why he'd vaulted over the counter and headed for the door, and it wasn't to save Kathryn. Chip or not, he wasn't about to let her kill Dru. Sure, he didn't want her to die, but if it came down to Drusilla or her, he would have to pick Dru. He loved Drusilla more than he loved anything else on the planet. It didn't surprise him that they'd all known about it--or at least, Buffy and Giles, anyway. The rest of the Scoobs knew now if they hadn't before. It didn't surprise him that they hadn't told him, either. As stupid as they were, they weren't stupid enough to blab that and leave him alone with Kathryn.

But just because he wasn't surprised at the fact he was chained in the tub again didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He'd forgotten just how hard Buffy punched. After socking him right in the face, making his nose bleed for a lot longer than he liked, she'd hit him several more times, and now his eye was sore and probably black. Damn her.

He didn't know how she had managed to chain him to the tub seeing as he'd been struggling quite a bit. Probably because after every time he hit her trying to get away the incapacitating pain from the chip set in. And he hadn't been quiet about it, either. He'd rattled the chain, pounded on the porcelain with his feet, yelled out every insult he could think of, and tried, once again, to yank the chain free. As hard as he tried, he couldn't break the chain or through the porcelain it was connected to. Giles must have put some sort of spell on them; that was the only explanation.

After awhile, he realized that it was pointless, and just sat there, casually wiping the blood from his nose onto the back of his hand and licking it off as he thought.

He knew Drusilla and he knew Kathryn. Obviously, Drusilla was going to win, and spend the rest of her days locked up, being chained, just like him. Kathryn didn't stand a chance.

Even if he'd choose Dru over Kathryn any day, that didn't mean he could be a little saddened by it. Still, she was just a girl, and he'd get over it quickly. But, as unlikely as it seemed, if Drusilla happened to die at Kathryn's hands, he didn't know what he would do. He doubted torturing her would bode very well, seeing as he had the chip, but he could pay someone else to do it for him. No, even that seemed too cruel. If anything, he'd just kill her as quickly as possible, so that the chip would hurt briefly but then she would be dead.

It was annoying as hell. Why did they have to make her fight Drusilla? Did the Council know that he was staying with the Scoobs? Was it an attempt to hurt him? No, he doubted that. It was probably just coincidence. He scoffed. More like fate. Fate was punishing him. For what, he didn't know, but someone upstairs had it in for him.

Because even if he would rather Drusilla live than Kathryn, that didn't mean he wanted her to die.

He didn't know how long he sat there, idly pulling on the chains and working his wrists every now and then, but it seemed like forever. He stared at how close the manacles were, so that his wrists were right next to each other, and how heavy and cold they were, and thought about how much he hated every last inch of the shackles they put on him. He thought of how much he hated Buffy and her stupid group. And he also thought about how much he hated his unlife, as well.

When the door opened and he heard Kathryn greet them all, he knew Drusilla was dead. Anger burned through him, boiling in his stomach and veins. He knew that they were all hugging her and giving her congratulations, the stupid backstabbing hypocritical bastards. They'd avoided her the entire time she'd been training and now suddenly they acted like they were her best friends. They knew damn well Kathryn had killed the love of his life and that he was chained in the tub, and they knew he could hear them, and still, they congratulated her.

What pricks.

He even heard her call her brother and tell him the "good news." He couldn't hear her exact words but, to be honest, he didn't really want to, so he didn't strain his ears. He didn't want to deal with her. He couldn't be held responsible for anything he said to her or any attempts to strangle her if she went into the bathroom to tell him her victory.

But, of course, she did. He heard her tell Buffy that she wanted to talk to him alone, and that she didn't need Buffy standing outside the door. Spike knew that Buffy didn't want Kathryn talking to him for the same reason he didn't want to talk to her. But, because God hated Spike, Kathryn walked into the bathroom, shutting the door shut firmly behind her.

She had stitches on her cheek, with little white butterfly bandages covering them. One of her eyes had a dark bruise underneath it. She had small little cuts around her mouth, and he recognized them as nails marks. Other than that, though she didn't look very injured. "You don't look too bad," he noted aloud, hating her for it.

She nodded a little. "I've got some bruised ribs, and one of them is cracked a little. Nothing's broken, though."

She had no idea how much that angered him. He wanted to leap out of the tub and tear her throat out. Drusilla was his ripe, wicked plum, and she had killed her so easily. Drusilla had never been an expert fighter, but she had been quite the hypnotist. She could hold her own. She should have been able to hold her own against Kathryn. He remembered the flask of holy water she'd said she'd snuck in, and he winced. Drusilla had never fared well with holy water.

He remembered what they had said about the Cruciamentum, and that they often underfed their vampires and gave them drugs to keep them from breaking free and attacking all the watchers. That must have been the reason for how easily Kathryn had killed her.

"You're bleeding," she told him, as if he hadn't known that already.

"Or rather, _was_ bleeding. Tried to take off and Buffy got a bit . . . testy."

"What, running off to rescue me?" she joked.

Spike chuckled darkly at the irony of what she'd said. "Something like that, yeah."

She grabbed a washrag and ran it under some warm water, and he watched her, seething the entire time. She had killed the only woman he had ever loved.

She walked over to him and knelt before the tub, reaching forward to wash off the dried blood that was underneath his nose, and probably smeared a little. He jerked his head away, not wanting her to touch him. She furrowed her eyebrows and moved to wipe his blood away a second time, but he just pulled his head away again.

She grabbed his chin and held his head still with one hand, then washed off the blood with the other. The rag was warm and felt good on his skin, but he hated her, and glared at her anyway. She was focusing on his mouth and nose, so she didn't notice that he was giving her a dirty look.

She pulled the rag away and put it on the floor beside her, then looked back at him. He just couldn't believe how uninjured she was. It wasn't fair that all she had was a few cracked ribs, a few bruises, a black eye, and stitches on her cheek. It wasn't right that all she had to do was wince and bear the pain when his immortal beloved was dust.

She sighed and he watched her bite her lip. "Spike . . . um, I have to tell you something." She was quiet for a few seconds, and she looked like she was contemplating something. "Drusilla . . . um, she's a vampire. Angel sired her."

Spike could have smacked her, if his wrists weren't shackled together and chained to the tub.

"She was the one I had to fight. I . . . I didn't know it was her, at first. How could I? I mean, you told me what she looked like once, and I thought she looked familiar, but . . . and yeah, she was rambling on about weird stuff, but Buffy said that . . . that the vampire would be crazy. Then she mentioned you, and I knew. I knew who she was."

Spike looked away from her. He couldn't look at her at the moment, He didn't want to see Kathryn ever again, because if he did, he was liable to kill her and deal with the pain.

"I thought you should know," she whispered.

He shook his head, staring down at her hands, wishing they weren't shackled together. "You killed Dru," he stated, and his chest hurt. It was like saying it out loud made it real.

"No."

He looked at her, confused. What had she just said? "What?"

She leaned closer, as if someone would overhear her. "I lied. I . . . I didn't kill her."

That didn't make any sense. If Drusilla wasn't dead, then how was Kathryn kneeling before him? He was happy Dru wasn't dead, but it didn't make sense. "You're not . . . I mean, she didn't . . ."

"I'm not a vampire. Um, I had the stake against her chest--I could have done it. She was winning, but then I threw the holy water on her face, and . . . and she started freaking out." Spike grimaced. Drusilla had never done well with holy water. "But . . . she never vamped out. And I could have, but . . . but I didn't. I told her to hide, and that if she killed me, she'd just stay locked up forever. I told the watcher I killed her and then they patched me up, when really, she was just hiding."

Spike looked at her, seeing the small nail marks along her chin, already scabbed over. He reached forward and held her chin as well as he could with the manacles around his wrists. "You know you're goin' to regret that, right?"

"Figured as much, yeah."

He wished he could hold her face instead of just her chin, and tuck the hair behind her ear. He was ecstatic that Drusilla wasn't dead. He'd just been wallowing in hatred and self-pity, seething at the girl before him, and he'd just found out that the girl he loved hadn't been killed. What more could he want? Drusilla was still alive. He still didn't understand it, though.

"Why? Why didn't you do it?"

"Because . . . you love her."

And he was kissing her. He crushed his mouth against hers, wanting to hold her; wanting to be against her. Kathryn had let Drusilla live because of how he felt. She'd cared more about him than her duty as a slayer and had done something incredibly stupid for his benefit. He knew that her decision was going to come back to haunt her--he knew it. And she wasn't stupid because she knew it too. One day the Scoobies would find out and give her hell, and it was possible that Drusilla herself would come back and make Kathryn regret her decision.

Still, she had done it, simply for him. How could he _not_ kiss her after that?

It was like fire, kissing her, having her mouth on his. It was as if he'd never kiss anyone again--it had been so long since he'd tasted a woman's mouth. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into the tub with him, but the damn shackles were making that impossible.

He could tell that she wasn't very experienced with kissing, but it didn't take her long to catch on. The side of the tub separated them so it wasn't exactly as easy as it normally would have been. However, when he thrust his tongue into her mouth ,wanting to taste her--_needing_ to taste her--she responded readily.

Her chin rested on the makeshift cup he made with his hands, his fingers splayed on her cheeks, holding her still. He wanted to grab her hair; he wanted to wrap himself around her. He couldn't.

She, however, could, and was doing so quite happily, it seemed. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, pressing her body against the porcelain wall the separated their lower halves. She was moaning quietly, hands roaming over his back fervently, clutching his shirt briefly before going up into his hair or holding him, like she would hug someone.

He could smell the recent bloodshed all over her, although she had cleaned it off. He could sense her arousal, and he could feel her heart pounding harder each second. Perhaps it was because of the intensity of their kiss or the smell of the blood, but he bit down on her lip. Obviously he hadn't meant to hurt her because the chip didn't go off, but she yanked away from him.

She brought a hand to her mouth, staring at the vibrant red against her skin. Spike groaned in frustration. He wanted to keep kissing her.

"What _is it_ with you and _biting_ me?" she asked playfully, grinning at him a tiny trial of blood dripping down her lips.

But apparently she wasn't too upset about it, because they were kissing again, her blood on his tongue sweet. The blood of a slayer was better than anything a vampire could ever taste, not to mention she was an aroused virgin . . .

Spike suckled on her lip, nibbling on it gently, then massaged her tongue with his own, tasting her, feeling her, her warm blood filling her mouth, although only a little bit. She tasted so good, so warm . . . so soft . . . And yet the kiss was so hard and demanding, sending hot electricity through his veins, and he could do nothing but kiss her harder.

Her hands were hot on his face, on his back through his shirt, and he wanted to touch her--touch her everywhere--hop over the cold, unfeeling wall and have her on the ground, snogging her, but the stupid chains prevented him from doing so--he just wanted her, he wanted her so much--

Someone--decidedly male--cleared his throat and Spike yanked away from Kathryn, feeling cold and dizzy. Her bottom lip was smeared slightly with red, and he realized that it was her blood from the lip he'd bitten.

It was Giles, who was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom, a half-smile on his lips and an eyebrow raised. "As much as I hate to interrupt your . . ." He eyed them both, Kathryn blushing heavily and standing up. ". . . discussion," he decided with an air of amusement, "but your brother is here to drive you home."

She turned around, her head ducked, and walked out of the bathroom without so much as a glance at Giles.

Spike glared at Giles, daring him to say anything--daring him to tell Spike off for kissing Kathryn. Instead, Giles just started laughing, and as if he had no care in the world, he walked over to where he kept the key, and tossed it into the tub, it clinking along the porcelain.

Spike knew that he was blushing as well, not amused at Giles' laughter at all, and grabbed the key.

* * *

Although Kathryn was excited and as cheerful as ever, there was a small, nagging sense of guilt in the back of her mind that she was choosing to mostly ignore. All of the Scoobies, as Spike called them, had spent the day with her, talking about everything except what she was supposed to do. When she had returned, alive, and they were all, no doubt, surprised at the outcome, they'd all hugged her and congratulated her, so happy to see her alive it was like they had been her best friends all along, when really, they had been avoiding her. They were congratulating her on her tough kill, and she hadn't even really done anything. If she hadn't thrown that holy water on her face, Drusilla would have killed her, and Kathryn wasn't going to tell herself otherwise.

It was one big lie--she told them all she had staked the vampire when in reality she'd just stabbed her through the stomach. She had every chance to stake her, and she'd let her live simply because of Spike. She was a horrible, incredibly stupid slayer, and she knew one day they would find out she lied--either by her accidentally slipping up, or Drusilla returning. Because there was no doubt in her mind that they'd known who she was going to fight--Giles had told her not to tell Spike about the vampire, after all. Why would he tell her that unless he knew? And she noticed how all of them referred to the vampire as a 'she.' They all knew and thought she didn't.

But she didn't care at the moment--she was busy being congratulated. She had made her decision, and as stupid as it was, she didn't regret it.

"And she just . . . started screaming?" Kyle asked as he drove.

"Yeah. She had me on the table, so I tossed some holy water on her." Kathryn slipped the flask out of her jacket and smirked. She shook it, and Kyle looked away from the road long enough to glance at it. "And she just started sobbing; freaking out. It was . . . kinda pathetic, really."

"So what then? I mean, did she just . . . dissolve? How much holy water was in that?"

"No, no, she didn't dissolve. Um, I broke off a chair leg, and I walked over to her, and she clutched my jacket, and started spewing off all this . . . weird, metaphorical . . . monologue-y type stuff, and it didn't make any sense, so I pushed her off, and she stood up, went to punch me, but I ducked, then rammed the chair leg through Drusilla's heart."

It wasn't until a second after she said Dru's name that she realized she had. She hadn't been planning on letting the other's know she knew the vampire's name.

"Drusilla?" her brother repeated slowly, and she realized that unlike the Scoobies, he hadn't known who she was fighting.

"Yeah she told me her name. Why? Know the name?" she asked slowly, not really understanding why he would since she was newly sired. But maybe word travelled fast in his crowd.

He nodded. "Yeah. Um, she ran with Angelus's crowd--you know, before he got his soul."

"What?"

"Yeah. She had the Sight--you know, psychic ability, that sort of thing--and he thought that was interesting, so he . . . tortured her for days, months even. Killed her family in front of her--tortured them, actually--and she fled to a convent. He killed everyone in the convent and tortured and raped her for days on end, making sure she was completely insane before he turned her. Some really sick stuff."

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. "How long ago was this? Like, a few years ago, or what?"

"No, no, this was the first time Angel didn't have his soul--not that, you know, weird thing that happened when Buffy slept with him. I think she was sired in 1860." He glanced up in the rear-view mirror and moved it around a little. "But yeah, anyway, she ran with Angelus's crew--Darla, Angelus, Drusilla--obviously--and, um . . . William."

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. "William?" she repeated. It was a common name, wasn't it?

"Yeah. William. Him and Drusilla were immortal lovers of epic proportions. You know, like Anne Rice bull-crap--except without the crappy over-flower-y prose. God, I _hate_ Anne Rice." He shuddered. "You know, they did everything together. That sort of thing. Really kind of romantic, I guess, if you ignore the fact they slaughtered innocents for more than a century. Really surprised you killed her, actually. Well, not really--she got attacked by this mob in Prague, and for a long time everyone assumed she was dead, but she was just really weak. Er, William, uh, healed her. The blood of her sire--Angelus. Really long story there, I guess--Giles told me about it."

Kathryn nodded slowly, and all of the excitement and giddiness that had been thrumming through her, making her grin, drained away almost instantly and was replaced with icy nausea. The cut on her lip throbbed slightly--she had been tonguing it the entire car ride, remembering how it had felt to have Spike sucking on her mouth, and how she had worried that the kiss would taste disgusting and he wouldn't want to kiss her with the blood on her mouth. She thought about how he had that fascination with biting her.

She brought her hand to her mouth, touching the cut, and pulled her fingers back, staring at the small bloody smudges on her fingertips.

"I never told you Spike's name was William." It wasn't a question, or an accusation. It was just a sudden realization. She didn't need to tell him that Spike had told her about Drusilla thousands of times.

Her eyes started burning and her throat was suddenly tight. She felt sick; like she was going to puke. She had made such a fool of herself, telling Spike that Drusilla had been sired, and she had let her survive. She had let Drusilla live, not really understanding the situation at all. She'd been so stupid. She should have figured it out long ago.

"Turn the car around."

* * *

Spike leaned up against the counter, smirking. As far as he was concerned, his day was far better than anyone else's. They all thought he was oddly accepting of teh fact Drusilla was dead--they didn't realize they were the ones being lied to.

In fact, his day was so fantastic, that he ignored all of the quips Xander was tossing his way. When they'd all heard Giles laughing they'd asked what had happened, and he hadn't lied--he'd told them all he'd walked in on the two of them snogging. And so, of course, for the past few minutes, that was all any of them could talk about. Except Anya, who seemed completely uninterested by the fact. Buffy wasn't too pleased about it, lecturing him about how wrong it was of him to do that, and that he should feel ashamed, and not understanding why Giles was telling her to leave him be, and why he thought it was so funny. Willow was telling him that maybe he should tell her the truth about him being a vampire since they were kissing and probably 'technically together' and it wasn't a good idea to start a relationship on a lie. Xander, of course, was having too much fun making cracks about the entire situation to get an actual opinion out, although Spike had a sneaking suspicion Xander would be against it. Xander would be against Twinkies if he knew Spike enjoyed them.

It wasn't until the door opened and Kathryn walked into the house that everybody shut up. Spike stopped leaning against the counter and smiled at her. She ran at him and he smirked, ready to grab her and start snogging her senseless. Well, well, well--she hadn't gotten enough of him the few minutes they'd been kissing, and she just had to come back for more.

It wasn't until he was on the ground with Kathryn clutching the collar of his shirt with one hand and repeatedly punching him with the other that he realized that she wasn't very pleased.

Even though she wasn't as strong as a slayer at the moment, she had managed to get the upper-hand quickly. She had tears streaming down her face and she was yelling as she hit him over and over, and Spike futilely tried to shove her off.

It was Willow who grabbed Kathryn and pulled her off Spike, which didn't appear to be very easy since Kathryn was trying her hardest to break free.

Spike stood up, touching his bleeding lip. "What the bloody hell was that about?" he demanded, staring at her incredulously.

"I hate you!" she screamed, then finally tugged away from Willow. Willow reached forward to grab Kathryn, but Kathryn was already storming back over to Spike, fist raised. Spike stumbled backwards, not really wanting to be punched again.

"Luv, hold up, what's going--"

"Tell me about Drusilla, Spike! Tell me about how she was sired in 1860! Tell me about how you've been dating her for a bit longer than a few years!" she shouted, taking a swing at him that he easily dodged.

"And the plot thickens," Xander aired unnecessarily.

Spike felt his stomach plummet to the ground. Somehow, someway, she'd figured it out. She knew he was a vampire.

"Luv, let me expla--"

"No! You could have told me any time! How many times were we alone? How many times did I let you bite my neck--how many times did you bite me, for God's sake? 'You're such a geek, Spike, you're always biting me' and God I'm such an idiot! I kissed you! I slept in the same bed as you!"

Spike stood up straighter, clenching his jaw angrily. "What did you expect, luv? Me to just blurt out the truth? Oh, by the way, I'm a vampire, wanna snog? Think it would have been a good idea now, pet?"

"You lied for that? You're a dick!"

"No, luv, I meant--look, listen, we were gonna spend a lot of time together, the better part of which would be spent with me_ kicking your face in_ and do you honestly think you would have let me do that and let me train you if you knew what I was? God, you're so thick! And while we're on the subject, I tried tellin' you once!"

"Why were you chained up, Spike? Tell me why Buffy chained you up! It wasn't because you were gonna run off and save my ass, was it? Tell me! Look me in the eyes and tell me you were runnin' off to help me!" she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

Spike opened his mouth but nothing came out. He wanted to lie, and perhaps he would have, if not for the fact he knew that she knew the truth. It was pointless to lie because she already knew what his intentions had been--he could tell just by looking in her eyes.

Kathryn swung back and punched him, blood erupting in his mouth.

He stumbled backwards and watched as she spun on her heel, stormed out of the door, and slammed it shut.

Nobody spoke. Everybody just stared at him as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his blood smearing his skin. His eyes didn't leave the door, half hoping she was going to come back in and half afraid that she would. As much as he wished he could say otherwise, he felt a sinking, painful feeling in his chest.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that they're definitely not a couple."

Spike glared at Xander, who was smirking obnoxiously. With three long strides, Spike stood in front of him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and decked him right in the face.

Even though an explosive migraine filled his head and Buffy tackled him to the ground, Spike thought punching the prat in the face was worth it.

* * *

A/N--some of you might not like the fact I kept Dru around, but Kathryn isn't meant to be a good slayer. Remember, she is new to the whole thing, so I imagine that she would rather listen to the Kathryn side of herself than the Slayer side. Also, a story isn't a story without complications. I just thought that I should explain myself.


	19. Chapter 19

All Kathryn did over the weekend was mope. How could she explain to Kyle how much of an idiot she was? Of course he asked what had happened, and her father asked too, and all she could say was that she found out Spike was a vampire, and that all of the Scoobies had been lying to her. Her father and brother weren't stupid--they knew she had feelings for Spike, as much as she'd tried to keep that to herself. They patted her on the back and tried to make her feel better, but they didn't know what she had done because of that.

She had had that broken chair leg against Drusilla's chest and all she would have had to do was push forward. It wouldn't have taken much for her to break through the sternum and dust her. But instead, simply because it was Drusilla and Spike loved her, she'd spent fifteen minutes finding a good place to hide her, and lied. She had lied to everybody but Spike--she had lied to everyone who had spent countless hours and days helping her get ready all for a lying, manipulative vampire.

When she thought about it, it had been so obvious. Spike never went out during the day, and he usually slept unless he was training her, and even then, they stayed in the house. He never gave the exact amount of years he'd dated Drusilla, and the very first time she met him, she'd hated him without any real reason. And everybody covered up for him--even her brother claimed to have been mistaken about the name--after all, he had been mistaken before. They had all lied to her for some reason unbeknownst to her, and she was gullible enough to believe them.

Her father had been so glad to see her and she hated bringing her family down on what should have been a good weekend, but she couldn't help it. It didn't seem to mind them much--in fact, they seemed to be more helpful than usual, buying her ice cream and not making her do any chores that she would have forgotten to do anyway.

She practically lived on the pain pills that Giles had given her father. Her powers came back on Sunday, which probably helped the healing process a little bit, but even on Monday as she was getting ready for school, she realized she still had some slight bruising on her ribs and her one eye was still a nice shade of purple, but at least it wasn't black. She still had the stitches on her cheek as well and she hoped none of her teachers would get any ideas about her home life because of it.

"So, um . . . are you going patrolling tonight?" her brother asked her as they walked out of the house and started towards the car.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My ribs still kinda hurt, and I think they still might be cracked. I don't wanna head off and get them broken."

He nodded, then stepped in front of her, sighing. "You don't have to go to school if you don't want to."

She scoffed and pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she had picked up from her father. "Kyle, I'm not going to miss school over boy troubles. I've already missed Friday, and Spike's just not worth it."

"Well . . . I was actually talking about your stitches and your ribs, but whatever."

She lowered her fingers from the bridge of her nose and looked at her brother, who was raising an eyebrow at her. She looked away from him and started over to the car. "I'm going to school," she stated firmly.

She sat in the passenger seat and buckled herself in, blushing slightly at assuming Kyle had been talking about Spike. Of course he'd been talking about her injuries. Why would Kyle be talking about the situation with Spike?

He sat in the driver's side and buckled himself in, sighing loudly. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I knew who he was, and I . . . I went along with it. It's just, I knew that if I told you, you wouldn't trust him, and he . . . he was training you, and you needed to trust him. Besides, I'm not gonna be the one to deal with his problems, you know?"

"I'm not mad at you." She started twiddling her fingers.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's just . . . I feel like such an idiot. It was so obvious, you know?"

"Well . . . If it helps any, I think he really cares for you. I don't think he was lying about that."

She furrowed her eyebrows. That didn't make her feel any better--in fact, it only served to confuse her. "Vampires can't _feel,_ Kyle."

"Spike spent over a hundred years doing whatever he could to please Drusilla. I think it's pretty safe to assume he can feel."

That still didn't make her feel any better. For some reason, the very idea of Spike being able to care about her made her feel worse. She just wanted him to be a heartless, sadistic vampire who couldn't care about anything but tearing out the throats of innocents, like Rupert had led her to believe.

"I don't wanna talk about this," she sulked, pursing her lips.

Kyle sighed, then started up the car.

* * *

Kathryn had no idea how she made it through the day. Several of her teachers asked about the cut on her cheek and her black eye. She told them she got mugged Thursday night, and that was why she hadn't gone to school Friday. They seemed to believe her. She was glad of that--she didn't want anybody thinking her father or brother beat her.

She wondered just how many times she would have to lie about bruises and cuts. She wondered how long they would continue to believe her.

She hated the fact she was going to have to keep living like that. They had focused so much on the Cruciamentum and, if she was going to be honest with herself, she had expected to die. She hadn't stopped to think that the test wasn't the end of her duties. She was going to have to keep slaying and keep killing vampires until the day she died, which probably wouldn't be as far off as she liked. Day after day, she would slay vampires. When she thought about it like that, everything seemed a bit pointless.

It was out of habit that she started walking to Rupert's, and by the time she realized what she was doing she was only a block away. She contemplated whether or not she should turn around and start walking home, but when she realized how far away that was and that her ribs were starting to get sore, she sighed and started up the walk. She needed to ask Rupert a question, anyway. She only hoped that Spike was sleeping--which he probably was.

She knocked a few times on the door, hoping he would be there so she could get a ride home.

The door opened and instead of seeing Rupert, she saw Spike, who was standing far enough away from the door to avoid being hit by the sun's rays.

"Oh. Hi," he greeted after a moment of awkward silence. He looked her over, then stepped back so that she could walk into the house.

She walked past him and said nothing as he shut the door. She didn't want to speak with him. She didn't want to look at him. She had made a complete idiot of herself in front of him countless times because he had lied to her, and she'd gone and done something incredibly stupid because of it.

She went over and sat on the couch, unable to think of anything else to do. She plopped her backpack on the ground beside her, and she felt the muscles around her ribs loosen. She'd gotten used to the dull, but constant, ache in her sides from carrying her backpack, so it was a relief to not wear it at the moment.

When Spike sat on the opposite side of the couch, she pursed her lips. Shouldn't he be in the bathroom? Why was he even sitting near her?

"So, uh . . . how was your weekend?" he asked casually.

She shot him a glare. "Depressing."

His too-casual face shifted into something softer; an expression she had never seen on his face before. He slowly tilted his head to one side and ducked it lower simultaneously. "Kathryn, look--I was gonna tell you, really, I was. An' I'm sorry about lyin' to you an' all, but you have to understand, I was just--"

"I don't wanna talk about it," she snapped, folding her arms over her chest.

"No, listen, I only did it 'cause I--"

"I said I didn't want to talk about it!" she repeated more firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. Did he not get it? She didn't want to be friends with him anymore. She was a slayer and he was a vampire--and not even a soul-having one at that.

He looked like she had just smacked him across the face, then his expression hardened, even though he blanched a little. "Well, fine! Good! I didn't wanna talk about it anyway!" She noticed how his voice raised a bit in pitch and how he could keep eye contact with her.

"Well, good," she replied, looking away from him.

"Fine," he scoffed.

The silence dragged on for what seemed like hours, even though it couldn't have been more than a minute. She could hear every creak of Rupert's house an every car that drove by the house. She could hear the slight humming of electricity coming form the fridge and her carefully measured breaths. It was nearly overwhelming, hearing everything but their voices. A thousand half-formed words sprung to her mind, but they all led to nowhere although she had a feeling that it would have led somewhere angry if she had opened her mouth to say any of them. She didn't, however. She firmly kept her mouth shut, despite the fact the silence was pressing on her like a weight. Although he was on the opposite side of the couch, she could feel him as if he was pressing against her, and she could feel his eyes on her, like burning coals all over her body.

"How was school?" he asked.

She turned in her seat to give him an incredulous look. Out of all the things he could have said (not that she wanted him to speak) he asked her about her school day? "It was school," she answered.

He nodded, as if that had enlightened him in some way. "Oh. Right. Well. Er . . . learn anything new?"

She blinked at him. "Um . . . no, not really." She shrugged , still feeling awkward. "We read Martin Luther King Junior's speech today, and watched a video."

"Oh, really?"

"It's black history month," she told him, although it really wasn't necessary. He nodded again, as if it was epically important. "Um . . . were you there when he, you know . . . gave it?" It felt like such a stupid question and a part of her wanted to smack herself. It was just . . . odd to be asking a man who looked only a few years older than her if he'd witnessed a famous speech more than thirty years ago.

"In broad daylight, luv?" He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked confidently.

Now she felt even dumber. And a bit angrier, too.

"Don't remember much of the sixties, to be honest. Woodstock was fun, though. Fed off a hippie, right? Spent six hours starin' at my hand."

Just as Kathryn was about to ask him how any drug could make staring at a hand for six hours entertaining, another question worked its way into her head. "So, uh . . . did you have slaves?"

He looked at her as if she'd said something stupid, and she realized it probably was. He wasn't American, and she had no idea when he was sired, anyway. Slavery could have been abolished for years for all she knew.

"No. I did, uh, have a black maid, though. She was nice." He shrugged and started twiddling his thumbs.

"You had a maid?"

He nodded, staring down at his hands. "Yeah. Well, technically, she was my father's, but yeah, she belonged to my family. Cute girl. Married, o' course, three kids. Fancied her for a few years, you know, when I was . . . what, fifteen? Thereabouts, anyway. She was from the Caribbean."

"Um . . . So, what, like everyone had maids back then?"

"I don't know; I was sorta . . . privileged." He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but it surprised Kathryn. He didn't sound or act like someone who had grown up rich. "We had a coupla maids. Few servants. They weren't all black, in case you were wonderin'."

It didn't surprise her that Spike had known just what she had been going to ask. "Wow. So, what . . . your dad was . . . like, a duke or something? You're not . . . you're not royalty, are you?"

That got a laugh out of him. Kathryn liked his laugh and so it made her smile even though she was blushing since he was laughing at her. "No, no, I'm not royalty. My dad just had status and class. Loads o' money. Mum wasn't too bad off herself, either."

"Oh."

"My dad wasn't exactly . . . The best of fathers. Never really around. Loved my mum, though. Dad was never home, not even when she got sick." He furrowed his eyebrows, as if deep in thought. "She got tuberculosis. Not exactly . . . an easy disease. She always took care o' me, though. Always there, even if she was hackin' away all night. Proud woman, her. Never wanted me to get the doctor."

Kathryn, as much as she was angry at Spike for lying to her, had to admit that she was interested in what he was saying. Spike liked to talk, and now that she knew he was a vampire, it was intriguing to be able to hear about the things he couldn't tell her before.

"I was a bit of a ponce, growin' up. But Mum loved me anyway. Thinkin' my dad was disappointed, though. Couldn't help the way I was, yeah? Not sayin' my dad ever struck me or anythin'--not unless I deserved it. Just sayin' he was a bit of a prat. God, we used to row. He was always off on business, but you know, I don't think he ever touched another woman, and he raised me right. I loved my mum, though." He stared at his entwining hands. His hands were wringing, like he was nervous, but she couldn't imagine why.

She smiled. It was so strange to hear about it, listen to him talk of things that happened long before her grandparents were born when he looked only a little older than she was.

They seemed to realize they were getting along at the same time because his eyes met hers and he smiled expectantly.

Kathryn cleared her throat and looked away, remembering that she was angry at him. "So, what, did you kill your parents?" she asked coldly, even though she remembered him saying that Angelus had. She just wanted to say something to end the civility.

He looked at her, his eyes wide, and finally he looked down. "Yeah. But it's not . . . it's not what you think. I just wanted . . . just wanted Mum to get better, and she . . ." His voice cracked and he looked away from her, the muscles in his neck tightening. She waited for a few seconds, realizing that he was closing his eyes tightly. He cleared his throat and looked back at her, and she noticed his eyes were shining slightly. "Killed my dad not too long after. Angelus put me up to it, but I didn't really mind doin' it much."

"You told me Angelus killed your parents," she accused.

"Not gonna tell the truth 'bout that, am I? Not before now, anyway." He shrugged.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "So, what, Angelus is your sire? Kyle told me that he was--doin' it to impress him then?"

He scoffed. "Don't always believe what you read in books, luv. Angelus taught me how to be a vampire. I give him that. He made me a monster, but he didn't sire me--that honour goes to Dru. Glad of it, too. Don't know why on earth she picked me outta all the men she coulda had, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?" He shrugged, then his eyes met hers. She realized he had rather nice eyes. "Are you still mad at me?" he asked quietly.

"You lied to me about being a vampire, Spike. What do you think?" she snapped. Just because she listened to one of his stories didn't mean all was forgiven.

He scoffed and shook his head. "It's not a big deal. So what? I didn't tell you I was a vampire. Get over it. It's not like you've told me your life story, is it?"

"Yeah, but it's a bit different when your life story includes tearing out the throats of children and killing two slayers--which I am, in case you have forgotten. I let you sleep in my bed, Spike. _With me._ Do you not understand why that pisses me off?"

"Oh, come on, it's not like it's that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal? Spike, you've _killed_ thousands of people! You are a murderer! Talking about your family back when you were a human or whatever might be charming or interesting, but that doesn't change the fact that you don't give a damn about anyone here and the only reason you're not killing me now is because you've got a chip in your head!"

Spike pointed his index finger at her. "I'm a vampire; what do you expect? Me to go around saving kittens and whatnot? Okay, so I'm evil, and yeah, I'm a soulless mass-murdering prat, and yeah, all right, the only reason I didn't kill you when I first met you is because it would have given me a migraine from hell, and maybe a few times I tried to bite you and the chip went off, and I would revert to killing and maiming if I had the chance, and . . ." he trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning a bit, as if in thought.

He really wasn't helping his case any. In fact, he was just digging himself deeper.

He lowered his finger. "Actually, uh . . . yeah, you got a point."

She got up off of the couch and started walking away from him. She didn't know where she was going, but she just wanted to be away from him.

"Oh, come on, luv! It's not like I can do any of that now! Chip, remember?" he pointed out.

She turned around to reply and noticed that he was off of the couch as well. "Oh my God, that doesn't really change anything! As you said, you would go back to maiming and killing in a heartbeat if you didn't have the chip! Not exactly the best way to proposition a girl--especially a slayer!"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't feel! I like you, Kathryn! I _like_ you, get it? Why the hell do you think I lied to you, huh?"

"Oh, wait, lemme get this straight--you lied to me because you liked me? Yeah, right, Spike."

"'Cause you'd be so keen to talk to me if you knew what I was, right? Look, I knew you wouldn't talk to me if you knew I was a vampire and oh, by the way, I'm sort of lacking in the social department at the moment--I spent most of my days chained to a tub and the only reason I came to the Scoobs was because I had nowhere else to go. I _hate_ them. Do you get that? I _hate_ the lot of them. And I came to them. You think I would have done that if I had anywhere else to go? And so finally someone is treatin' me with respect, talkin' to me, looking at me with somethin' other than disgust, and you what? Want me to throw that out the window? I lied, all right? Because I didn't want you to stop talking to me."

Kathryn frowned, then folded her arms, stepping away from him when he walked closer to her. His voice had softened a bit and he was staring at her with wide eyes. He looked like he was begging. It was so hard not to go over and hug him. "Spike . . . No matter how you paint it . . . You've killed. It's . . . I mean, you get off on killing."

"Yeah, but--but I'm the same guy. I still like the same things. And 'sides, I can't do that anymore. All relationships have their problems. Buffy dated a vampire."

"And he had a soul."

"Oh, so that's what it comes down to? Bloody Angelus! Always cockin' things up for me."

Kathryn shifted uncomfortably. "Spike . . . I just . . . I can't. It's too . . . wrong. It's just wrong. I mean, I . . . I did something incredibly stupid for you and . . . and I really shouldn't have."

"Why did you do it, huh? Why did you let her live? 'Cause I love her. So, what? Me bein' a vampire makes what I feel less true? Is that it? Is that what you think? Lemme tell you that I love her every bit as much as I said I did, soul or not."

"You really think it's a good idea to start a relationship when you're still hung up on your ex?"

He stuck out his bottom lip and tilted his head upward, looking down at her through his lashes. "You didn't seem to mind that too much last night when you snogged me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know what? I can't deal with this. Just . . . Just . . . Go. Just . . . Leave me alone. Please."

He was suddenly in front of her and she jumped. He stared down at her and she stepped back, nearly tripping over her own feet. He grabbed her arms and held her still, staring down at her intensely, blue eyes dark and upper lip curled slightly in a small sneer. "You're not so perfect yourself, luv. You're lyin' to the Scoobs. You think they won't find out? They _always_ find out. You think they'll forgive you so easily? Why don't you practice what you preach. You're not part of their li'l group. You're nothing to them."

"Let go of me," she ordered through clenched teeth.

"And as sure as they will find out, they will hate you. You're just as bad as me."

She futilely tried to jerk out of his grasp. "Let. Go."

His fingers were digging into her arms and it was starting to hurt, but obviously he hadn't intended for it to since he wasn't in pain. She remembered the fact he didn't clutch his head when he bit her lip when they kissed, and even when he kissed her after she started to bleed, he never once pulled away from her or yelled out in pain. It must have been hard for him not to just try and bite her again, or lose control with her blood flowing into his mouth.

"I like you. I like being near you. I worry about you an' . . . an' I wonder what you're doin' all day. I like spendin' time with you, and when I do, it's like . . . it never seems like enough, and I just . . . I don't want you to go. I don't wanna lose you."

It sounded like he was wrenching the words out of him, as if it almost caused him pain to say it. It was obvious it was hard for him to open up about how he felt about her. He sounded like he really meant it.

"Too late. Now let go of me." She knew she was being cruel. She knew that it must have hurt him doubly so to have her react like that after he told her how he felt. But she wasn't going to pretend like she didn't care. She wasn't going to pretend that she had forgiven him. She wasn't going to act like him being a vampire wasn't a big deal because it was. He was worse than Ted Bundy or any other serial killer. She wasn't going to get over it simply because he liked her.

Spike clenched his teeth and cocked his head to the side so that the muscles in his jaw tightened visibly, his grip tightening slightly. "Fine," he growled, then let go of her arm.

She watched him stroll down the hallway and go into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. A small part of her felt a little guilty and ashamed of how she acted, but most of her didn't care. What was he expecting? Her to forgive him and start making out with him, and completely forget that he was a killer?


	20. Chapter 20

Kathryn sat with her head against the back of her couch, staring at the ceiling. Apparently, she must have looked a bit irritated or depressed, because her brother came over and sat beside her, and stared at her for a little while.

"You okay? Giles didn't . . . say something to piss you off, did he?"

She looked at Kyle, then shook her head. "No. He just dropped me off is all. After we talked about training and whatever."

"When will you be training?"

"Well, right now, only on Tuesdays and Fridays, but he said I can train more if I want, and that if he feels I'm slipping or something, he will reschedule. Oh, and Spike and I talked today."

"Oh? How did that go?"

"I called him a murdering psychopath."

"Not very well, then." She looked away from her brother, not wanting to see his sympathetic expression any more. "Look, Kathryn . . . I will be the first to admit I don't like Spike. In fact, I hate him. But . . . you were happy when you were with him. I get you're pissed off and you have every right to be, but we _all_ lied to you. I mean, I hate his guts and all, but . . . it's not about me."

She scoffed and sat up straighter so that her head wasn't on the back of the couch anymore. "What? You _cannot_ be serious. Out of everybody I expected you to understand. It's not about the fact he lied to me, although that really pisses me off too, it's the fact he kills people for the fun of it. If he didn't have that chip in his head, do you honestly think we'd be alive right now? No. Don't you get that? Am I the only one who sees the problem with the fact he kills people?"

"No, I totally get that. Really. I wouldn't want to date someone who killed people, either. I'm just _saying_ that he can't do that now, and I think he . . . really cared about you, and you were happier when you were always with him."

"It's only been a few days, Kyle. Of course I'm still upset! I slept in the same bed as a guy who has killed two slayers before, and I kissed him, and you expect me to get over it in a few days?"

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all--I'm just saying that no matter what you do, I'll support you. If you want to forget he exists, then I'm cool with that--I'm just saying that, well . . . you gotta do what makes you happy, okay? No matter what that is."

Kathryn just sighed. She didn't want to talk about this with her brother. In fact, she didn't want to talk about it at all. She didn't even want to think about it.

"Well, anyway, I'm off to work. If anything comes up, you call me, okay?"

She gave him a mock salute as he got off of the couch and left the house.

She really hadn't expected that from Kyle. If anything, she would have thought he'd give her high fives for calling Spike a murderer. It must have been so hard for Kyle to just sit back and allow her to become friends with someone he hated. And she couldn't even be mad at him or anyone else for that matter because they had all told her that perhaps it wasn't best to get attached. They had all tried to prevent them from becoming friends. She'd been so stupid. How obvious did it have to be in order for her to get it? They had told her several times that she shouldn't get attached and they had all expressed their concerns. And she had assumed they were all testy about their relationship because Spike was a "pillock" as Rupert had put it. She felt so stupid--how many times did she snap at Rupert and Buffy because they were actually trying to prevent the situation she was in now?

Kathryn tried to watch TV, but nothing was on. She considered doing her math homework, but figured that it could wait until later. She tried watching a romantic comedy because she needed something to laugh over, although it ended up being more romantic than comedy, which only reminded her of Spike. Of course, it didn't help her that _Dracula_ with Gary Oldman was on, either. She settled for watching some brainless TV show that had flat characters and was written poorly. It didn't help that the male lead was blonde (although he didn't really resemble Spike in any way) and when he started kissing a girl with dark hair, she decided to watch _South Park._

Kathryn would have assumed that at least _South Park_ was safe, but the entire time she watched it, she kept thinking that Spike would have liked it. Still, it was pretty funny, so she didn't change the channel.

There were a few knocks on the door. Sighing, she got off of the couch and walked over to the door, opening it.

"Willow?"

"Hey," she greeted cheerily, smiling widely. Willow was standing beside a girl that Kathryn didn't recognize. The other girl was very womanly and blonde. Kathryn searched her memory to see if perhaps they'd been introduced before and she had just forgot, but when nothing came up, she figured it was someone new. Willow held up a plastic bowl with a lid on it. "I brought cookies."

"Uh . . . thanks?"

"You look like you were expecting someone else." Willow's cheery grin faltered.

"No. I actually wasn't expecting anyone at all. Hence, the uh . . . surprise. So who's this?"

"This is Tara," she introduced. "Tara, this is Kathryn."

"Hi." Tara waved feebly, then ducked her head and tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

Kathryn smiled at her, then stepped back and opened the door wider so they could come in.

Kathryn shut the door. "So, uh . . . what's up?" she asked, mainly because she couldn't think of any reason why Willow would come knocking on her door.

"Giles told me you were having a bad day. He said that you came over and you seemed a little . . . off. So, Tara and I stopped by. With cookies. Doesn't matter how sad you are, cookies are always yummy."

Smiling, Kathryn led them into the kitchen. Willow placed the container on the table and took off the lid. "Voila. Made 'em myself you know. Baking always makes me feel less guilty. Cure guilt by baking. That's what my mom always told me. Actually, that's a lie, my mom told me to try to develop talents that weren't, you know, house-wifey 'cause we didn't have Women's Rights just so I could spend all my days cooking for my husband, so . . . But still, I like doin' it."

"Uh . . . guilty why?" she asked as she grabbed a cookie, which was still soft and a little warm.

Willow sat beside Tara. "Oh, you know, the whole lying-to-you thing. I don't do well with lying. Makes me jumpy."

Kathryn glanced at Tara, not knowing just how much she should say with her around.

Willow must have noticed her glance, because she smiled. "Oh, no, don't worry about Tara--she already knows all about the demon-y vampire stuff. Were you in Sunnydale when the Gentleman came?"

"Huh?"

"You know, when nobody could talk. Were you here then?"

Kathryn shook her head, then bit into the soft cookie. Willow, apparently, was a master chef, because the cookies were delicious. Then again, her father didn't exactly bake often, so she couldn't remember the last time she'd had homemade cookies.

"No, but I heard about the laryngitis outbreak on the news and how you had to be quarantined. That sucks. I hate laryngitis. There were some kids at my school who thought you were faking. We were gonna move here, but we had to wait a few days for you guys to get better. You know, because of the quarantine."

"Right, but it wasn't laryngitis, it was the Gentleman. It's these really creepy float-y guys, and they took our voices away because screaming made their heads explode. Anyway, Tara was attacked by one. So she knows about that sorta stuff. Plus, she's a witch, like me. She makes stuff float."

"Oh. That's cool." She searched her memory for a time any of the Scoobies mentioned Tara or another witch besides Willow, and nothing came up. "But really, Willow, you shouldn't feel guilty. You're not a mass murdering psycho who gets off and killing and maiming."

"No, but we all knew that he was, and . . . and we didn't tell you."

"Well, you shouldn't have to deal with his consequences. You all tried to warn me to stay away from him, and I didn't, 'cause I thought you guys were all just being assholes."

Willow shifted awkwardly in her seat. "I never tried to get you away from him. You were good for him. And he made you happy. That's the important thing. I mean, not exactly a, you know, conventional relationship, but . . . it's your happiness that matters."

Kathryn decided to take a bite out of her cookie and ignore Willow.

"Buffy didn't know Angel was a vampire at first either."

What was it with everyone? Why did everybody feel the need to talk to her about Spike? "Yeah, but Angel had a soul. He actually felt bad about all the stuff he did. Spike doesn't."

"Well, Angel didn't always have a soul. Like, after Buffy and Angel fell in love, he lost his soul and reverted back to Angelus, and Buffy had to kill him."

"Could you not compare me to Buffy please?" Kathryn snapped. "I understand that my pain isn't nearly as bad as hers. I get that Buffy has a far worse life than me and everything I've ever done she's done it too but only better. I get that my life isn't the worst in existence, but I have every right to be upset. So, I'm sorry my pain isn't legitimate enough for you."

Willow's green eyes shimmered and she frowned. Something about Willow's eyes made her emotions so easily read, and guilt hit Kathryn suddenly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Sorry. I didn't . . . I didn't mean to snap at you."

Willow shook her head and attempted a smile, but her eyes betrayed the cheer. "No, it's fine, really. You've had a lot on your mind and I . . . I was being unkind."

Kathryn shook her head. "No, don't apologize. I'm sorry, it's just . . . I shouldn't have done that. You made me cookies, and I . . . it's just everybody keeps talking to me about this whole Spike thing. Even Spike."

"That's not what I mean. Thing is, well . . . When you're friends with Buffy . . . it's _always_ about Buffy. It's not a bad thing, and you kinda hafta get used to it. No matter what you're feeling, what she feels takes precedence, you know? I guess I just . . . I shouldn't have done that; sorry."

Kathryn felt her cheeks burn. She felt ashamed. Willow had come, bearing cookies, with the intention of helping Kathryn, and she'd snapped at her for no real reason. She massaged her left temple. "Don't worry about it. I'm just . . . I'm just being a bitch. There's no excuse for it."

"No, you had a rough weekend. I get you're probably stressed."

"Yeah, yeah I guess . . ." She glanced at Tara, who was looking around the kitchen, as if trying to memorize it. She felt even worse because she'd snapped at Willow in front of her friend. "So, uh . . . It's nice to meet you, Tara," she said wildly, just the change the subject.

Tara looked at Kathryn, their eyes meeting briefly, before she ducked her head. "Um . . . Yeah, it's nice." Tara let out a few, breathy laughs that seemed more nervous than amused.

"So . . . How do you know everyone?"

"Oh, um . . . I-I don't." She flashed a nervous, brief grin. "Just, um . . . just Willow."

Well that made sense. It explained why she had never met Tara before. "Oh, well . . . How'd you meet Willow then?"

"Um . . . Wicca group? But, um . . . mostly she was with me when the Gentleman attacked me. She ha-has power that's . . . she's really powerful."

Kathryn nodded. "Yeah, that's what I hear. She got Spike and Buffy to get engaged."

"Spike told you that?" Willow exclaimed.

Kathryn chuckled. "Yeah, he did, and if you can get those two to make out, then I wouldn't doubt you've got a lot of power. 'Cause . . . well, they _really_ don't like each other much."

"She does. She's very special." Tara spoke with conviction, but when she noticed that Willow was smiling at her, she ducked her head and blushed.

"So . . . You're good? We just stopped by to drop off the cookies . . . but if you want us to stay, we can."

"Nah. I'm good. I've got math homework that I've been avoiding all night."

Willow nodded then stood up, pushing her chair underneath the table properly. Tara stood as well, and she noticed Willow reached down and held her friend's hand. "Um, but if you need someone to talk to, you can . . . uh, call me, if you like."

Kathryn smiled and nodded at her, wondering if Willow was aware of the fact that Kyle had had her number ever since they'd moved in. Not because of Willow, but because he got Buffy's number from Rupert. Willow must have known that, because Kyle had left a message on her machine the first time she met Spike.

When she heard Willow leave the house and shut the door behind her, she took another bite into the cookie. Willow was right--no matter the situation, cookies were still yummy.

* * *

The next few weeks were hell on Spike. First off, why Giles insisted on training Kathryn in the house was beyond him. Couldn't they find an abandoned building somewhere, or wait until night and train outside? Did he have to do it there? Spike couldn't sleep when he knew Kathryn was coming over to train, but he certainly couldn't go out and stare at her and drool, could he?

Well, actually, he could, and he did. He would find excuses to go out and watch them train for a bit, pretending to ignore Kathryn's presence just like she pretended to ignore his. He would quietly warm up a mug of blood in the microwave and watch her while he drank it slowly.

But what really irked him was knowing that Drusilla was still alive. Every night when he went out, he looked out for her. He didn't go searching for her, but he kept his eyes peeled for her familiar frame. Any girl who even resembled Drusilla in the smallest bit caught his eye, and for a fleeting second he would think it was her, but then it would turn out to be some single mother trying to tell her kids to behave or someone else he didn't really give a damn about.

Spike would have very much liked to search for her. He would have liked to go to the abandoned factory and look around its charred interior. He would love to stop by the mansion and call out for her. Truth was, though ,that he was afraid of what would happen if he did. How could he go begging Drusilla to come back to him when he was just a shell of his former self? He had a chip in his head, and he couldn't be the vampire she deserved if he couldn't kill and maim. Not only that, but the several times he'd gone crawling back to her in the past she'd told him she wasn't interested anymore. He didn't know if he could handle being rejected by her again and a part of him knew that if he showed up, she would tell him the same thing she had told him the last few times--that they could still be friends.

Every girl that passed, he wished was Drusilla just as much as he hoped that it wasn't. He loved her. He loved her so much and he would give anything to get back with her . . . but if she still denied him, if she still just wanted to be friends, it would be too much with everything else that he was dealing with right now.

Plus there was the outright shame he felt at the fact he was neutered.

Instead Spike spent most of the night wandering around, going to the Bronze, going to Willy's (but he was honestly thinking about stopping--Willy was being a greedy bastard at the moment and Spike obviously couldn't beat him into giving him free blood) or going to the Fish Tank. He got his money from nicking it off strangers, or vamping it out and scaring them out of their money. Unlike the Bronze, he couldn't nick beers off of others' tables, but it wasn't his money anyway and so he had no qualms about paying. Even the fact that Kyle worked there wasn't as bad as he thought it would be--Kyle treated Spike like a random face in the crowd, and Spike repaid the favour. As far as anyone else was concerned, they didn't know each other outside of the bar.

Currently, Spike was wandering through the cemetery, looking for something to kill. Nothing passed the time like a little violence.

"Ugh, not you," he heard someone groan from behind him, and when he recognized the voice, his spirits lowered.

He turned around and scowled. "Slayer," he greeted unpleasantly.

Buffy sighed, then lowered her stake. "Here I was, thinking that someone actually threatening was prowling the cemetery, and I find you instead."

He narrowed his eyes. "Hey, I _am_ threatening."

"Please, Spike. You weren't even threatening before you had the chip; you certainly aren't threatening now. What are you going to do? Throw idle promises of death my way? Oh, God, how will I ever survive that?"

"What? I was threatening without my chip!"

"Oh come on. How did all of our fights go? You put up a mediocre fight then scampered off like a puppy with its tail between its legs."

Spike glared at her. "I'll have you know, Slayer, that if it weren't for your mother, I woulda killed you. I woulda bashed your head in and lapped up the blood. So don't get all cocky with me, Miss--your mother is more threatening than you are."

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "And what are you doing out here, then? Lurking?" she asked with faux cheeriness.

"I don't lurk. That was your ex, remember?" Buffy's disposition changed as it always did whenever he mentioned Angel. She was so predictable sometimes. "Speaking of, how is Angel lately? Know much about your Illinois Boy Toy?" he goaded, smirking when he saw her lips purse into a thin line.

"He's from Iowa. Oh, and for your information, Spike, what I do with my life is none of Angel's concern."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, as much as I _hate_ to cut our little chat short, I really must be off." Spike turned around and started walking off, having no desire to be near the bint much longer.

"Off where? Moping at the Bronze?" she taunted.

Spike didn't even bother to turn around. He simply lifted his hand and showed her the back of his first two fingers.

Honestly, he wasn't even moping at the Bronze. Spike didn't mope. Spike thought deeply about things that were bothering him, but he didn't mope, and he didn't brood. If Spike chose to think deeply about certain things that were bothering at the Bronze, then he had every right to.

It wasn't until he was at the other side of the cemetery that he heard footsteps, and he groaned. Fine, if Buffy wanted to play a round of Taunt Spike, then so be it.

"Buffy, why don't you just run along to Captain Shagalot and leave me alone?" he growled, turning around to face her.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Buffy's here?"

Spike shifted his weight onto his other foot. Well. He hadn't been expecting her. He wasn't sure if he was glad or not.

"Er, yeah. Other side of the cemetery." They stared at each other for a minute, and seeing as Spike really couldn't think of anything to say, her turned on his heel and started walking off, digging in his duster pockets for a cigarette.

He lit up the cigarette and breathed the smoke into his dead lungs, then shook his head in frustration. He turned around and started walking towards her. He wasn't about to let her go off and join Buffy. He wanted to talk to her. He'd been aching to talk to her for weeks, and the opportunity had presented itself--he wasn't about to throw it away.

Although she was walking away, it only took a few long strides for him to be right behind her, and he grasped her shoulder. There was a sharp pain in his abdomen and he grunted out, doubling over. Kathryn spun around and used the momentum to hit him with a backhand across the face and he stumbled backwards.

When he righted his posture he saw Kathryn, hands covering her mouth. "Sorry!" she apologized, her voice muffled by her hands. "I--I saw you walk off and I--I thought you were a vampire; sorry!"

He scoffed and looked her over, offended by her remark. "Hey, watch it! I _am_ a vampire, chip or not!"

She blinked a few times. "Oh. Right. I meant . . . You know, one that was trying to kill me."

He nodded, forgiving her slip-up. "Okay then."

She folded her arms over her chest, but apparently it wasn't comfortable because she unfolded them again and scratched the side of her head, brown eyes sweeping the cemetery, but avoiding him. "Did you, uh . . . need to tell me something?"

He opened his mouth, trying to remember what he'd wanted to say, then realized that he hadn't had anything to say in the first place, and had hoped something intelligent would fall out of his mouth seeing as he was being presented a chance to talk to her. "Oh . . . um, no, just . . . wanted to say hi . . ."

God, what an idiot. Spike could have smacked himself. That was it? That was what fell out of his mouth? God must truly hate him. He'd made such a big deal about grabbing her shoulder to turn her around, and that was all he had to say?

She blinked at him and waited for a moment, probably thinking he had something to add, even though he didn't. "Oh. Well . . . 'kay. Hi." She waved feebly at him, waited a few more seconds for him to think of something to say, then turned around and started walking off, shaking her head.

Spike stood there for a second, mouth open slightly. "God, I'm an idiot," he grumbled before sticking his cigarette in his mouth and walking away.

How stupid was he? He shouldn't have bothered to talk to her at all. Not only was she going to hate him, but now she was going to think he was a pathetic loser who had forgotten how to talk.

He felt a hand on his arm and he stopped, smiling a little. He turned around and saw Kathryn, who stepped away from him, as if afraid to be standing too close to him. She was staring at him expectantly, but he had no idea why. He was just thankful and surprised she had come back to him.

"Well? Is there anything else you wanna say?" she asked.

"To be honest . . . I didn't have anything to say before. Just . . . wanted to say something." A slow smile crept over her features. "Yeah. You must think I'm a moron. Can't even talk to a pretty girl without sounding like an idiot."

"Pretty?" she repeated.

He had been hoping she'd catch that because it certainly wasn't an accident he'd thrown that word in. He stepped closer to her, cocking his head to the side and grinning slightly. "Well, you know you are." He reached forward to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek, but hesitated mere centimetres from her flesh, staring into her eyes. It was impossible to tell if she wanted him to touch her face or not--but she wasn't staking him or shoving him away, so that had to count for something.

Instead of touching her face, though, he lowered his hand and tucked it underneath her chin, tilting her head up. Her hand twitched and he froze, expecting her to hit him. A second later he relaxed when he realized she wasn't going to attack him. "You know you're beautiful. Taunting me with your gaze. You think I don't feel you staring at me? I can feel your eyes on me." He barely spoke above a whisper, staring at her intensely, refusing to look away from her eyes.

He heard her take in a shaky breath and she barely licked her bottom lip and he tilted his head closer. "I've been starin' at you, too . . . When you're training . . . I can't help but look . . . I think you know it, too. I think you like it."

Her lips were parted, and he could feel her breath on his face. He leaned in, but she cleared her throat and stepped away from him so that he couldn't kiss her.

He scoffed. "What did you want, then? Huh? You coulda just let me finish walkin' off, but no, you grabbed my shoulder and _you_ wanted to keep up a conversation."

"Well it wasn't an invitation to kiss me."

"What did you want then, huh? Bloody tease."

He narrowed her eyes at him, apparently offended at the remark he threw at her. "Just wanted to say hi," she replied coldly, then turned around and stalked off.

* * *

A/N--Yeah, originally the scene between Spike and Buffy was a bit longer . . . but years of writing spuffy turned their interlude into massive flirting and an almost-kiss, so I deleted most of it. Le sigh. And yay for Tara!


	21. Chapter 21

Kathryn sighed, doodling on the paper that she had meant to use for notes. She wasn't particularly fond of history as it was, but her teacher was fond of droning on about unrelated material, and he was currently telling them all about what he thought was an interesting anecdote about something that happened to him when he was younger, and perhaps she would have been interested (her teacher could be funny) except for there was a dog involved and the dog was, of course, named Spike.

She didn't know how Spike had known she liked to look at him, but he had, either that, or he was just saying stuff to flirt with her and it happened to be true. She tried not to stare at him for too long, and never when he was looking at her, because she knew he looked at her. Spike had never been shy with that. He always openly gazed at her.

To be honest, Kathryn didn't know what she wanted. Sometimes she just wanted to forget the whole thing happened and just start talking to him again, but then she would think about how many people he'd killed, and unwillingly imagine him killing somebody and laughing over it. How could she date someone who was evil? Sometimes it was so hard not to just go over and start chatting with him, but at the same time, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Seeing him and talking to him last night had affected her more than she would have liked. She hadn't expected him to slip right into flirting with her heavily again, or try to kiss her so soon. She hadn't expected him to call her pretty, either. Thinking on it, she'd never been called attractive or pretty by someone unrelated to her before. Or if she hadn't she couldn't remember, and it certainly hadn't been said with that intensity before.

It really didn't surprise her at all when she noticed that she was doodling Spike. She wasn't an artist, so they all came out cartoon-y and nothing spectacular, but anybody who knew spike would be able to tell it was him. There were small doodles of Spike smoking, and of Spike laughing, and she had a detailed picture of his mouth. Kathryn was fond of his mouth, so it wasn't at all shocking to find that she had several pictures of his lips sketched on her paper.

When the bell rang she shook her head and crumpled up the paper, hoping that the teacher had never gotten back on subject because if he had, she'd have no way of knowing. She tossed it into the garbage as soon as she passed it.

She hurried down the halls, glad that history was her last class of the day so she could go home. She brushed through the crowd, trying as hard as she could not to regret stepping away from Spike instead of kissing him. Which only meant she couldn't stop thinking about it, and that se was mad at herself for wanting to kiss him despite the fact he was evil.

When she finally made it out of the school, she started on her way home. Of course, as soon as she got out of the parking lot she remembered that it was Tuesday, and she had training with Rupert. She sighed, contemplating going home anyway and calling Rupert to pretend she was sick. But if she did that, she would just be tempted to call in sick every single time, and so, reluctantly, she turned around and headed off in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Kathryn," somebody called. It was vaguely familiar, but no names sprung to her head.

She turned towards the voice and saw a boy that was in her class. She searched her mind frantically for a name, and a second that seemed like an eternity later, she remembered. "Kenny," she greeted, hoping that she had remembered correctly.

He flashed a brief smile at her. "Where you headed?" he asked, his big, blue eyes blinking.

"Oh, um . . . a friend's," she answered, deciding that it was better to be cryptic than to say a forty-year-old former librarian's house. She knew that most of the people in the school had attended the old high school, and she figured he would recognize the name.

"You mean, Rupert Giles?"

Apparently, being cryptic was a waste of time. "Er . . . Yeah."

He tossed his messy, natural blonde hair out of his big, blue eyes. He smirked at her. "So, what, is he a cradle-robber? Bet he's got a lot of experience."

"What? God, no! I'm not--we're not--" she spluttered, the very idea of doing _anything_ romantic with Rupert disturbing.

Kenny laughed. "Oh, come on, you can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell! God, we're just--we're just friends."

"You sure? 'Cause I think he's got a bit of an eye for the younger ladies, if you know what I mean. he used to always be around this Buffy girl. She graduated last year, and I'm telling you--she was _always_ with him, and let me tell you something, a man would have to a right out homosexual to not want to hit that. Well, that, and her sweet-ass red-headed friend. Man, I had a huge crush on her. She taught my computer class, two years ago. We had this teacher, but she died. She was dating Giles too--the teacher. He is surrounded by hot girls. You're telling me that you never--"

"I've never done _anything_ with him. And he's never done anything with Buffy or Willow, either. To be honest, I'm more friends with them than him. His house is, like . . . where they all hang, I guess."

"Ah. I see." He looked her over, and it was then she realized that they were walking together. "You know, I'm not gonna tell anyone. You're old enough to do what you want."

"None of us are dating Rupert. I met him because my brother buys books from him, and I met Buffy and Willow through him, and I'm usually hanging out with them, not him anyway."

Kenny nodded, then ran a hand through his blonde hair. She had to admit, Kenny was attractive. "So, what, you dating either of them? Girl on girl is totally in now, you know."

"No, I'm dating Buffy or Willow." She furrowed her eyebrows. Why was he so fascinated with her love life? And how did he know she was always at Rupert's? "How did you know where I was going anyway?"

"Huh? Oh, um . . . I live nearby. Well, across the street. Kinda. Across the street and a house over. Anyway, I just wanted to give you this." He reached into the pocket on the front of his grey hoody. He procured a wadded up piece of paper. She took it form him, confused. "Your notes. Or rather, your drawings."

She blinked at him. "You looked." it wasn't' a question--it was an accusation."

"Either that or I'm telepathic. Take your pick." He reached into his hoody pocket again and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She watched him stick one in his mouth and light it. Not surprisingly, smoking reminded her of Spike. "I liked the comic you drew. You know, with the smoking."

Kathryn frowned, then smoothed out her paper on stomach. She looked over and saw the comic he was talking about. It was hastily drawn, but she managed to put some shadowing in it. For like eight panels it just had Spike smoking, and then it had Drusilla (why she'd drawn Drusilla, she'd never know) telling him that smoking kills with Spike just staring at her like she was an idiot. She didn't understand how someone would find that funny unless they knew both of the people she'd drawn were vampires.

"I like how he's staring at her like she's retarded," he told her, pointing at the picture and tapping it with his index finger.

She nodded. "Yeah, it's sorta . . . The punch line. It's . . . it's not really funny, I wasn't really--"

"No, it is funny," he interrupted, staring at her intensely. He had high, delicate cheekbones. They weren't as prominent as Spike's, but reminded her of Spike anyway. Just like the way he was staring intensely at her did.

Then he looked away and blew some smoke rings, and she watched them float in the air.

She shook her head and folded the paper, sticking it in her back pocket. She glanced at him, watching him as he tossed his bangs out of his eyes. His hair wasn't really that long, but it was messy and wavy, and just long enough to flop over his ears. He was thin and had a small frame, but he was a bit taller than Spike. Then again, it wasn't hard to be taller than Spike, though, seeing as he was a bit short for a man.

"Wanna cig?" he asked casually.

She shook her head. "No, I don't smoke."

He nodded, then ashed before taking another drag. "So, what, it's the chill pad or something?"

"What?"

"Giles's house. Is it the chill pad? You said everyone pretty much hung out there."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess." She shrugged. It was the best she could come up with. She wasn't about to tell him it was where she trained to kill vampires.

"So, you chill there, but you're not datin' him, or any of the girls."

Why was it so hard for him to grasp that concept? "Yep."

"So, you're single then?"

She glanced at him. He was staring at her again. "Uh . . . Yeah."

"Rad." He grinned at her. "That means I don't gotta worry about anyone beating my ass when I ask you to come to the Bronze with me in about five seconds." Kathryn blinked, unsure if she'd heard him properly. He took a drag off of his cigarette, blew the smoke out in a few rings, then ashed the cigarette as he blew the smoke rings away. "Wanna go to the Bronze with me tonight?"

"Um . . ." He waited for her to answer, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to do. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

He smiled. "Rad."

They talked the rest of the way to Rupert's. Kathryn was nervous around him. She hadn't really thought much about Kenny, except to notice that he shared a class with her and she saw him in the halls sometimes. To be honest, she had no idea why he had asked her on a date so suddenly, because he'd never really talked to her before. She had noticed him looking in her direction a few times, but she had assumed he was just staring off into space and she happened to be in the way.

Mostly they talked about how boring history was and told some dirty jokes. He seemed nice enough. He was talkative, like Spike, and gestured a lot, like Spike. He also smoked, and had big blue eyes, and had blonde hair, too. Then again, Spike wasn't a natural blonde and Kenny obviously was, but still, even that reminded her of Spike. It wasn't so much that they looked similar, but they had similar qualities, and since Spike had pretty much been running around in her brain all day she couldn't help but notice.

"Well, this is it," she said, starting up the walk.

"Yeah, guess so. Mind if I walk you up to the door? It's the gentlemanly thing to do." He tossed his cigarette to the sidewalk and crushed it with the heel of his sneaker.

She nodded and walked beside him on the way to Rupert's door. She knocked on the door a few times.

"See ya tonight," Kathryn said, turning to smile at him.

He kissed her. She was shocked by the suddenness of it, but it wasn't harsh or demanding. It was soft and she could tell that his mouth was slightly parted. When the door opened he pulled away from her, winked, and walked away. She stared at his back for a few seconds, still confused, then turned around and went to walk into the house.

Of course, that was when she noticed Spike had been the one to open the door.

He was staring at her, his face stiff and immobile as stone. His icy-blue eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed. She could see his muscles in his jaw and arm tightening. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, seeing as her and Spike weren't dating and she was currently hating his guts, she felt a sudden, deep sense of shame, as if she _had_ done something wrong.

She looked at the ground and walked into the house, shoulder bumping his. He slammed the door shut and she winced.

"Who was that?" he demanded.

She turned around, still feeling guilty. "Um, Kenny. A kid in my history class." Why did she feel guilty? She hadn't kissed him--he had kissed her, and she hadn't responded. And even if she had, why did it matter? She was single. She could kiss who she liked.

"Oh. Known him long?" he asked waspishly.

She narrowed her eyes. He had no right to take that tone with her, and he had no right making her feel guilty when she had done nothing wrong. "No, not really." She folded her arms. "What's it to you?"

"You know damn well what it is to me!" he shouted and she jumped.

"We're not dating, Spike! I can do what I want!"

"Oh, you can go around kissin' guys you barely know, but oh, not me--that's such a bloody crime!"

"Well _he's_ not evil, unlike _some_ men I know!"

He flung his hands up in the air. "Oh, so that's what this is about, huh?"

"Yes, actually, it is! _You're_ a soulless vampire. _I _am a slayer. See any problems with that?" she shrieked.

"Fine!" he yelled, then grabbed her arms and shook her once. "Fine, that's how you want it! Stake me, then! I'm so bloody evil, stake me!"

He tossed her away from him and she stumbled backwards. She would have fallen if not for the fact she'd slammed against Rupert's table, the edge slamming against the small of her back. He stormed at her and slammed his hands on the table on either side of her, effectively pinning her. She could have knocked him away, or crawled onto the desk and ran off in the other direction, but she didn't. She would be lying if she said she wasn't scared, though. Her heart was pounding and every cell in her body was telling her to attack him.

"Do it. Kill me," he ordered, voice deep, his eyes dark. "If I'm so evil, then kill me. Do your duty, Slayer."

She shoved him away from her.

"You can't do it, can you?"

She stood up straighter, although her knees felt weak. "You can't hurt me, Spike."

"That so?" He backhanded her across the face and she tasted blood in her mouth. He let out a yell of pain and pressed a palm against his forehead.

Her cheek stung and the inside of her mouth throbbed. As much as his backhand stung, she felt an even deeper pain in her chest, and she knew the tears in her eyes hadn't come from the physical pain. His mouth was beside her ear and he was pinning her against the table again, his body very nearly pressed against hers. "Still think I'm harmless?"

His tone wasn't flirtatious, but threatening, and it sent chills up her spine and the hairs on her neck stood up.

"Don't kid yourself luv. Two seconds of pain? You'd be dead longer than that if I ever chose to tear your throat out."

She closed her eyes, body cold with fear. "Get away from me."

She could feel his presence and she knew he was still in front of her. Her body was stiff. She couldn't move. It wasn't that she actually thought Spike was going to kill her, but she was still scared.

She felt his breath on her face and her eyes snapped open. He was staring at her, but not with the flirtatious gaze he usually stared at her with. The intensity was there, but it wasn't something she'd like to see ever again.

He slowly stepped away from her, but not by much. The blood that was filling her mouth started spilling over her lips, and he was eying it. She wiped the blood on her mouth with her hand, a slight sting shooting through her jaw when she touched it.

He had hit her. All right, so Spike had hit her plenty of times before, and now that she thought about it, he had clutched his head a few times afterwards, or let out a grunt of pain when she hadn't even hit him. But this time it felt different. It hurt more than just her face.

"You hit me," she said, and she could hear a note of disbelief in her voice.

An emotion she hadn't expected to see flashed across his face, and she recognized it. It was guilt. But it was only there for a second. "Well, I had to prove a point, didn't I?"

"I think you proved it."

He turned away from her and stalked towards the bathroom. "Have fun with loverboy!" He shouted a second before she heard the door slam.

* * *

Kathryn wasn't stupid. Judging by the way Rupert was extra kind to her when he got home from shopping and how he kept eyeing her slightly swollen bottom and the red mark that she was sure marred the side of her mouth, he had figured out she'd had a fight with Spike. It might have also been the fact that when Spike came out to grab a pack of smokes he had inconveniently left on the table, she snapped at the British vampire which led into an short, but loud and heated, argument, in which she called Spike a psychopath and he called her a cold-hearted tart.

Actually, thinking on it, Rupert hadn't been acting very observant of her bad mood until she'd had the argument.

And his obvious looks of concern bothered her. It was as if he was expecting her to blurt out. It was the same looks her father gave her when she had had an obviously bad day at school.

It wasn't until she had finished beating the hell out of the punching bag with more gusto than usual he had removed it from a hook in his ceiling and put it away that he said something.

"Kathryn . . . I can't help but notice you're . . . not in the best of moods."

She sighed. She had been expecting him to say something ever since Spike gave her the two-finger salute and she told him to go rot and die.

"Yeah, well . . ."

"Did Spike . . . attack you?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Kinda." Off Rupert's confused look, she embellished. "He hit me."

"I assume there is a reason for his behaviour?"

She scowled. "He needs one? Last I checked, he was evil, and evil people don't really need excuses to beat on girls." For some reason she didn't want to let Rupert know how the argument started.

"I suppose not," he conceded, although she could tell he didn't really buy into the fact Spike just randomly walked up to her and hit her.

She sighed. "Well . . . I guess it sorta started when he . . . kinda . . . saw Kenny kiss me."

Perhaps it was because although she had done nothing wrong, it felt like she had, and the very thought of having Kenny's mouth against hers made her feel guilty, but she expected a disapproving glare from Rupert. She expected him to tell her she was acting out irrationally, and give her a lecture. She expected some sort of punishment--and a part of her wanted it. She wanted to feel like her guilt wasn't irrational. Btu that fact was, the fact she was ashamed over someone kissing her was incredibly stupid, and so, therefore, Rupert didn't seem to care.

"Yes, well, I suppose that would do it. He can be rather jealous. When him and Buffy were engaged, he could barely tolerate to hear Angel's name."

"But we're not dating, I can do what I like," she defended, even though Rupert hadn't accused her of anything.

"Of course you can. However, Spike _does_ appear to . . . genuinely care for you. As such, he will become jealous." Kathryn was a little unnerved by the fact everyone seemed to be fine talking about how Spike felt about her. It was an acceptable topic, apparently--one that everybody seemed okay with accepting at face value. "There is no excuse for his behaviour, of course."

"Well . . . That wasn't all that happened. I sorta . . . yelled at him and called him evil, and so he told me to stake him, and I told him I wouldn't stake something harmless, and that sorta . . . made him angry and he wanted to prove that he could hurt me if he really wanted to."

Rupert nodded. "I see. If you wish for me to deal with Spike, I ca--"

"Don't!" she practically shouted. The urgency in her voice frightened her. By all rights, she should want him staked. She should want him as nothing but dust littering the bottom of the tub. Rupert seemed surprised at her outburst. "Don't stake him. Please."

He nodded. "Of course not. And this Kenny . . . How was it that Spike saw you kiss him?"

"First off, I didn't kiss him--he kissed me. I didn't expect it at all. He did it on the porch--he walked me here; I guess he lives nearby--and kissed me right before Spike opened the door. Which sorta explains how Spike saw him kiss me. We kinda have a date tonight."

"You and Kenny?"

"Yeah." She shifted her weight onto her other foot. This was a rather awkward conversation to be having with Rupert.

"Does Spike know?"

She shook her head.

"Perhaps it's best to keep it that way."

* * *

A/N--And thus, we have Kenny. I admit Stan and Kyle were mistakes, but Kenny was totally on purpose. Originally his name was Robert, but when I realized that I had Stan and Kyle, I decided to go with the theme and name him Kenny.


	22. Chapter 22

Spike wasn't a saint. He had hit girls before. Hell, he'd pounded on Buffy more than a few times, and he'd never felt a lick of guilt over it, either. He'd slaughtered and tortured more people than he could possibly ever remember. And even when Kathryn had trained with him, he sometimes accidentally intended to hurt her.

But for some reason, it felt different this time. It was different to purposely intend to hurt her and actually do it. Oh, he'd wanted her to hit him back. He'd wanted her to start kicking his face in. He wanted to start a fight. But she hadn't hit him back. She'd just stood there and allowed him to press up against her.

He had made his point, though. He hated it when they thought he was harmless, even if he was practically an impotent, pathetic waste of a vampire.

Still, though, why did it feel so . . . wrong? Why was he consumed with guilt when he remembered how he'd backhanded her?

Of course, it didn't make him feel any better when he realized he'd left his pack of smokes out on the table and he desperately needed to smoke in order to get his mind off of Kathryn. God, she could be so infuriating. But he liked it.

Smoking didn't calm him down any, so he just put his head back and rested. The hard, cold porcelain of the tub was far from comforting, but he'd grown accustomed to it. It was easier than it should have been to fall asleep, and not surprisingly, he dreamt of Kathryn. He'd been dreaming of her a lot lately. She was often shagging him senseless in those dreams, and when she wasn't shagging him, Drusilla was. Sometimes they both were. However, there were the dreams that didn't involve shagging so much as staking, and he found those far less pleasing.

Unluckily for him, his dream included the non-shagging Kathryn, which meant she was the pro-staking Kathryn trying to kill him for breaking Miss Edith. Why the hell she cared about his ex's doll was beyond him, but it seemed to have really upset her.

Spike awoke suddenly, but he had no idea why, although he was glad of it seeing as it prevented him from being staked in his dream. It took him a second to realize that he heard water running and the fact something warm was soaking the bottom of his pants and washing over his bare feet.

He opened his eyes and saw that Kathryn was leaning over the side of the tub with her head under the running faucet. He sat up so that his back was leaning against the back of the tub and watched her for a moment, the steam rising around her face and she ran her fingers through her wet hair.

She started reaching blindly for the bottle of shampoo. Her hand was inches from it, her wet hand smacking the porcelain as she felt around for it. Spike leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of shampoo and pressed it against her wrist to let her know he had it. "Here," he said, hoping she could hear him above the sound of the water running.

She jumped slightly then turned her head to look at him, using her other hand to wipe the water from her eyes and push her wet hair away. Her eyes focused on him, then moved over to the shampoo bottle he was holding. He opened the bottle for her and held it over her hand. She cupped her hand and he poured some shampoo into her palm.

She looked at him strangely, then started massaging her scalp, looking away from him and squeezing her eyes shut. He watched how her fingers threaded through her hair and smiled. He didn't know why he liked watching her wash her hair; he just did. He didn't even mind the fact that the water was splashing over his pants and feet.

After lathering the soap in her hair, she stuck her head back underneath the water and ran her fingers over her head, washing the soap out. She moved to pull her head out from underneath the water.

"You missed some," he stated.

"What?"

"I said you missed some," he repeated, louder this time. She cautiously opened one eye and looked at him, looking confused. He sighed. "Do you mind if I . . ." he reached forward hesitantly, but she didn't move so he figured she wouldn't mind.

He moved so that he was kneeling in the warm water and he guided her head underneath the faucet, and watched the rest of the soap out. Even after it was all gone, he kept running his fingers through her wet strands, feeling her scalp and her hair wrap around his knuckles.

Without asking her permission, he grabbed the conditioner and put some in his palm, rubbing his hands together, and sliding them into her hair and across her head. He moved closer so that he could get the other side of her head without having to bend awkwardly. He smiled when she tilted her head into his hands so that he could wash her hair better.

The sound of the water and the steam rising was soothing, and the feel of her wet hair sliding across his wrist and over the back of his hand was pleasant. He felt every scar in her head as he pressed his fingers against her scalp, completely forgetting that the water was pooling around his knees and soaking his jeans, and that his feet, which had been submerged in warm water, were now starting to get cold.

When the conditioner was thoroughly applied to her brunette curls, he guided her head under the water again and washed it out, getting his wrists and arms wet.

He pulled away from her and leaned back, watching as she squeezed the excess water put and then flipped her head up, her hair smacking against her back. She looked at him, her face damp and flushed, and he tilted his head at her. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He wasn't about to make the same mistake he'd made the night before and spout of random idiocy, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Her mouth curved upwards into an impish grin. She reached over and pulled the tiny knob on top of the faucet upwards. In the second of silence that followed, Spike growled and her grin widened, then suddenly, water fell from above.

The shower was much louder than the faucet and the water was uncomfortably hot. When it hit him he growled again and Kathryn laughed.

"Bitch!" he insulted, although there was no real malice behind his tone. She only laughed harder, and Spike chuckled deeply in his throat. "Come here, Missy!"

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open comically when he grabbed her. Without too much trouble, he yanked her into the tub with him, the shower soaking both of them.

Even though she was wrestling with him in the slick tub, she was laughing along with him. He wrestled her back, getting a mouthful of water every time he laughed, and the water stung his eyes. He banged his head and elbows several times, the loud clangs the followed louder than the shower.

Even though he saw her side slam into the tub or other various body part smacked the hard porcelain, she never stopped laughing as they attempted to gain control over the other. It was difficult to keep a hold of her while they slipped and slid inside the tub, water raining form above, soaking them, the steam casting a thin fog and making his vision slightly hazy.

He knew they were making a racket, and he knew that if anyone was in the living room, they would be able to hear them laughing and banging away. He didn't care. All he cared about was the fact her wet body was sliding and pressing against his, and she was laughing.

The back of his head thwacked against the tub and he let out a grunt of pain.

She stopped moving. "Are you okay?" she asked urgently, and he barely heard her over the shower.

He blinked water from his eyes and stared at her. Water streamed off of her head and ran down her face like a waterfall and over her body, seeing as her head was right underneath the showerhead. Fate had smiled upon Spike that day because she was wearing a tight, baby-yellow shirt that when soaked he could see through, and he saw her red, lacy bra through the fabric.

She was straddled his waist and pressing her hands against his chest. Whether or not she could feel his hard-on he didn't know, but he was glad she wasn't calling any attention to it. He moved to sit up so that his head wasn't against the back of the tub and his hand slipped. She grabbed his arm and held him steady, preventing him from hitting his head again.

He sat up and the position change made her lose her balance, so he wrapped his left arm around her waist.

He looked at her mouth, and how soft and wet it was.

He looked back up at her eyes and noticed that she was looking at his mouth as well. When her eyes flicked back up at his eyes, she cleared her throat and climbed out of the tub. She slipped and he heard the wet smack of her body hitting the floor. He would have chuckled, but he was too disappointed at the fact she had gotten out of the tub to do so.

He leaned forward and turned off the water and shower.

He looked over at her standing and staring down at her soaking clothes. "Dammit," she murmured. "Now I need to change my clothes."

Spike looked her over and watched her push her hair form her eyes. "I, uh . . . I did laundry, earlier. Before you got here. You can wear my clothes." She looked at him, and he was afraid she tell him she'd rather die, but instead, she smiled and nodded. "Oh, uh . . . wear the red shirt."

"Huh?"

"The red button-up shirt. Wear that one."

"Why?"

He ran his hand through his wet hair, feeling it stick up. "'Cause you look good in red."

She walked over to him, slipping the tiniest bit but managing to catch her fall, and ruffled his hair. He chuckled and pulled his head away, looking up at her, trying his hardest not to smile but failing. She stared down at him, then tucked her hand underneath his chin, brushing her thumb over his lip. He flicked his tongue out, barely tasting her skin and she pulled her hand away, but brushed the side of his face right after.

She ruffled his hair again, although only briefly. "Okay," she said, before she walked out of the bathroom and left him alone.

* * *

Kathryn had never really paid much attention to what colour looked best on her. She knew what colours did _not_ look okay on her--such as anything fluorescent, but in her opinion, nobody looked good in neon bright colours. However, as far as what colours looked best on her, it had never even crossed her mind.

But now that she thought about it, Spike was right--red really did compliment her complexion.

His shirt felt nice on her skin. She kept her bra on, so it was a little cold and damp around her breasts, but the shirt itself felt nice. It was a little big for her so it bared her collarbone and kept sliding down her shoulders, but still, she thought she looked rather good. His pants were too long for her and felt odd. They fit snugly around her hips, but it was a little baggy around everywhere else. She hoped he wouldn't mind if the bottoms came back scuffed, because they kept sliding underneath her heels.

She didn't even mind the fact that everyone was giving her odd looks when she left the bathroom, or that Rupert asked why the hell his bathroom was soaked and why both her and Spike were covered in water. She told them the truth--they wrestled in the tub while the shower was on. Anya (typically) thought that was a metaphor for sex, but Kathryn calmly explained that she mean it literally.

When Kenny came over to pick her up, they all shut up. She didn't know for sure, but judging by the look on their faces, they all looked stunned. She figured that they hadn't known she had a date.

Kenny drove her to the Bronze, and the car ride was awkward for her. Kenny sang along to some podunk country that she think he referred to as Hank Williams. Kathryn liked some country, mostly newer stuff, but she didn't like whatever it was he was listening to. She hadn't pictured him as a bluegrass fan, but apparently, he was. She didn't know what was worse--listening to Hank William's half-yodelling voice go on about committing suicide in a river, or Kenny attempting to sing along with it.

She wasn't even going to lie to herself. She regretted not kissing Spike in the tub. It had been so much fun, wrestling with him; slipping and sliding, banging elbows and knees, having him futilely try to change their positions so he was on top . . . She chuckled when she thought of his stunned little face when she banged his head against the back of the tub. How stupid could she be? It had been a rather perfect moment for a kiss, really.

There had to be something wrong with her. She shouldn't be attracted to a killer. She shouldn't regret not kissing him and she shouldn't feel like she'd missed out on an opportunity. She would just have to try harder to avoid him. Because as much as she regretted doing it, she knew it was probably the right thing, getting out of the tub before she couldn't stop herself.

When they sat at a table in the Bronze, Kathryn felt suddenly nostalgic. She remembered when Spike had taken her on a not-a-date here and they had danced. She remembered how much fun it had been, having him pressed up against her, both of them dancing, and her trying to ignore the hard-on pressed against her back.

"So what's up? You've hardly said a word since I picked you up."

She shrugged. "Just . . . thinking, I guess."

His eyes roamed over her face. "Nasty bruise you got there."

Kathryn reached up and touched it, feeling the dull pain she felt whenever she touched a bruise. She had momentarily forgotten it was there, but she knew from looking at it in the mirror whilst putting Spike's gel in her hair that it was far from nasty. It was a red mark with some purplish spots in the middle. She had had nasty bruises before; ones that were black and green and bright blue, ones that she found oddly beautiful--the one on her mouth hardly qualified as nasty. Then again, she supposed to someone who wasn't' used to getting punched in the face and various other parts of her body it might be.

"Oh. Yeah."

"What happened? Your face hit a doorknob?" he asked sarcastically, looking her over. "'Cause I can kick the doorknob's ass."

Kathryn wasn't stupid. She knew that doorknob meant a man hitting her, and she shook her head. "I fell," she lied.

"Down some stairs?" he added with about as much belief in his tone as he had when he talked about the doorknob.

"In the shower, actually."

Kenny's eyes widened and he nodded in understanding. "Oh, man, did the same thing the other day. I was pulling my crank, if you know what I mean, and I orgasmed so hard my legs went numb." Kathryn laughed. She supposed she should have been offended by the way he spoke, but to be honest, she'd grown up with her brother and her father. It wasn't like she had virgin ears. "So what you were doing that made you fall in the shower, then?"

"Wrestling with Spike," she answered. She'd had to repeat it so many times to the Scoobies that it just fell out of her mouth habitually.

"What? Is that code for . . . something?"

She opened her mouth to explain it was code for wrestling with Spike, but then she realized he probably didn't know who Spike was and would assume the same thing Anya had. Wanting to skip all the lengthy explaining thing, she just shook her head. "Never mind."

He still looked curious, but thankfully he didn't press the issue.

She suddenly remembered why she had prevented herself from kissing Spike. Spike had hit her to make a point, and he had made it quiet clear. Spike could still hurt her if he wanted to, and he was an evil, vicious killer. She knew that a major part of her had to be sick for liking him as much as she did.

"So what prompted the date?" she asked randomly. It had been bothering her all day. Kenny had never so much as talked to her before, and within five minutes of their first conversation, he'd asked her on one. Was that normal date-asking behaviour? It was a bit sad for her to realize that she honestly had no idea.

"Prompted?" He stared at her strangely, as if confused.

"Um . . . you know . . . what made you ask?" Perhaps she'd been around Rupert a bit too much. Then again, she didn't think 'prompted' was that hard of a word to figure out.

"Oh. Your drawings."

That didn't really clear anything up. "Uh . . . Why?" Cartoonish pictures of people he had no way of possibly knowing couldn't really have made him think that she was suddenly someone he wanted to take to the Bronze.

"Come on, Kathryn. Those were obviously pictures of me. Don't you think that would spark any man's interest? I mean, you're pretty."

The first thing she noticed was that she had called her pretty and she felt her cheeks warm up slightly. She'd been called pretty two times in just as many days. The next thing she noticed (which she realized probably should have been the first) was that he had assumed the pictures were of him. She understood why--had she not been comparing him to Spike earlier? She had seen the resemblance, so it made sense he would as well, seeing as he didn't even know Spike. Kenny had high, delicate cheekbones (although not nearly as chiselled and prominent as Spike's) and blonde hair. Plus, he did smoke, something she hadn't even been aware of until earlier that day.

"Oh . . . um, those weren't of you."

He looked her over, obviously not believing her. "Oh, really? Then who were they of, then?"

Once again, with the topic she really didn't want to bring up. She had mentioned Spike merely seconds ago, and if she told him that he was a guy she knew that lived with Rupert, that would lead to the (once again) assumption Anya had made .After all, she had lied about how she'd gotten the bruise on her mouth by saying she'd fallen in the shower, and brought up the fact she'd wrestled with Spike. Besides, she was sure there was a rule somewhere stating that a girl shouldn't mention a guy she was crushing on whilst being on a date with another guy.

Then again, she was sure there was another rule stating that she shouldn't be wearing clothes that belonged to the guy she was crushing on while on a date, too. And she was constantly aware of the fact that the fabric was pressing against her skin and his scent was surrounding her.

"Never mind," she muttered, knowing by the smug expression on his face that he assumed he was right.

* * *

There was no denying it. Spike was a moron. A first-class, drooling, complete and utter moron. He had watched her wash her hair--no, scratch that, he had washed it _for_ her. Then she told him she needed a change of clothes, when she had never really shown any concern about the state of her clothes unless she was doing something with him that required a little dress-up. He'd even told her where his hair gel was (he didn't bother to ask who she knew he had some) and watched her crimp it. Well, mostly he watched how her breasts bounced when she crimped her hair, but still, he knew what she was doing.

And what had Spike gone and done, like the big idiot he was?

Headed right to the Bronze after his clothes had dried. Free beer was on the agenda for today, and he hadn't even registered the fact that Girl He Saw Kissing A Boy Earlier + Getting Ready Date and in a town like Sunnydale, Date Bronze.

He hadn't even noticed her at first. Perhaps it was because he was planning on getting completely pissed off of crappy American beer stolen off of other's tables (which he realized would take _a lot_ a stolen beers seeing as the alcohol content in what Americans referred to as "beer" was pitiful) simply to get her out of his mind. He wanted to erase all thoughts of her (especially her soaking wet with her lacy, red bra showing through her shirt) from his mind .he knew that Drunk Spike was a whining, lovesick, pathetic excuse for a vampire and he knew damn well he'd end up either stumbling to Kathryn's house and begging her to forgive him for murdering innocents, or stumbling over to the several places he thought Drusilla was staying and begging her to take him back. He knew that either scenario would end with him being humiliated greatly, but in all honesty, he didn't care at the moment.

But then, when he saw her, he realized what a ponce he was.

Of course she was out with the stupid prat who had kissed her on the porch. Of course he wasn't the only one interested in her. Of course she was dancing with Spike new arch-nemesis--and wearing his clothes. Why had he offered her his clothes again? He should have been more like the evil vampire he was and made her go out in her soaking, baggy semi-see-through shirt . . . then again, maybe not. He wasn't sure he wanted what's-his-face staring at her lacy red bra.

He fully intended to walk away. He fully intended to turn around, walk out of the Bronze, peacefully mug a few people, and head to the Fish Tank where he could get plastered and pretend he didn't know Kyle.

That was before the rat she was dancing with leaned in and kissed Kathryn. That was before Kathryn's body froze for a second until whatever his name was grabbed her breasts through her (Spike's) shirt. That was before Kathryn tried to shove him away and he laughed and dove right in for another kiss, hand still firmly planted on her breast.

Spike was practically shoving his way through the crowd, ignoring the comments people made when he bumped into them. Nobody touched Kathryn when she didn't want to be touched. Spike may not be a saint, but whenever he saw a man force anything sexual on a girl when she was trying to fight him off, it reminded him of Angelus. And Spike _hated_ Angelus.

". . . told you to stop touching me like that!" he heard he snap angrily, shoving his hand away from her chest again.

"Come on, quit being such a prude," he said through his laughter and leaned in for another kiss only to have Kathryn put her hands on his chest and shove him away. "I saw those pictures; I know you want me."

"Those weren't of you, Kenny, how many times--" Kenny, as Spike now knew he was called, cut Kathryn off by grabbing her arms, holding her still, and kissing her roughly.

Spike grabbed Kenny's shoulder and yanked him off of her. "Oi, mate, she said stop," he growled, then swung back and punched him squarely on the nose, then clutched his forehead in pain when the chip went off.

Kenny stumbled backwards and ran into several people, whose presence probably being the only thing from making him fall on his ass.

Kenny stared at Spike with wide eyes as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "Wait a minute . . ." he mumbled, never taking his eyes off of Spike's face.

"Spike, what the hell?" Kathryn snapped. "Did you follow me?"

"No, I swear, I didn't even know you were--"

"Spike?" Kenny looked between Kathryn and Spike as if he had figured out the meaning of the universe. "You were drawing him? That's the guy in the pictu--I thought you said you were single?"

"I _am_ single, Spike's just a--"

"Wrestling with Spike in the tub? What the hell? That's not something you do with guys you're not dating, you stupid slut!"

"Oi! Don't call you that you ponce!

"When I said wrestling, I meant wrestling! As in bashing his head into the porcelain and fighting him! And what the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I was gonna get drunk, saw him coppin' a feel, and so I--"

"I can take care of myself!" she shouted, then rounded on Kenny. "And you! When I tell you stop touching me, I mean it!"

"I thought that you wanted--"

"Well maybe in a foreign country where no means yes!"

"Well maybe in a country where girls don't screw guys in bathtubs then go on dates with--"

"I already told you, Kenny, I was actually wrestling with him! And you know what? I don't have to explain myself to you! As far as I'm concerned, this date's over!" She turned away from Kenny and started storming off.

Spike smirked at Kenny, then felt Kathryn grab his upper arm and so he trailed after her.

She practically dragged him through the crowd, both of them ignoring the protest of the people they ran into. Her grip on his arm was tight, but he could have pulled free if he wanted. Well, maybe. However, he let her drag him through the Bronze. When she got to the door that led to the back alley, she kicked it open and stormed out, letting go of his arm. The blaring bass dimmed as soon as the door shut.

She rounded on him and glared, pointing her index finger at his face. "You! What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"What do you think I was doin'? You expect me to just sit there with him gropin' you an' all?"

"I meant _here_--what are you doing here? Because I don't need you following me around like a big stalker freak!"

"I wasn't following you!" he shouted, his loud baritone echoing through the alley. "I told you, I came here to get drunk, an' I wasn't in the mood to play Don't Know Kyle at the Fish Tank, all right? I have as much right to be here as you do--you don't own the bloody town!"

She looked him over, brows furrowed. "You really weren't following me?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

She blinked a few times and her mouth closed. She nodded to herself. "Oh. Well . . . in that case . . . thanks. I mean, I could have handled it myself, obviously, but uh . . . it was nice." She rubbed the back of her head and looked around the alley awkwardly. "Sorry, I just thought . . . um, that . . . you were following me around."

Spike understood why that would anger her, so he nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry I hit you," he mumbled, kicking up some dust with the toe of his boot.

"Yeah, well . . . you're evil."

"That wasn't what I was tryin' to prove, luv." He took a step closer, looking her over. She was busy staring at the ground. "I'm evil, yeah. You know it. I know it. No need for proof. I just . . . I'm not helpless. If I really wanted to, I could kill you. If I had strong enough a desire . . . You wouldn't be standin' here."

She glanced up at him, but only for a second. "So . . . what you're saying is . . ." He stepped even closer to her. She looked up at him and smirked. "So what you're saying is you have a thing for Buffy? I mean, if you _really_ wanted her dead--"

"And I killed her, the entire Scooby Gang would rain fire, hell, and bloody brimstone on me. One person I can handle, a punch or two here an' there, but . . . tearin' out her throat? Not the brightest idea. She'd never let me close enough--an' 'sides, the more damage I cause, the more the chip hurts." He tucked a strand of hair away from her eyes and his fingers lingered on her cheek for a second. "You, on the other hand . . . I've had your jugular right beneath my teeth before . . . If I really wanted you dead, luv . . ."

"So you really do hate Buffy then?" she asked, looking downwards again, but he caught the smirk on her lips before she lowered her face.

"Come on, Kathryn. Our enmity comes from the fact she's a slayer, and I'm a vampire. You honestly think I really hate any of them _that_ much?"

She looked up at him, a clearly amused expression on her face.

Spike glared at her. "You better not tell anyone I told you that."

"I won't. So . . . You hate her 'cause she's a slayer? What about me, then? You hate me too?" she taunted.

He brushed the same errant curl away from her eyes. "I think we both know the answer to that."

When his fingers trailed along her cheek and dipped down to her throat, she took a few steps away from him. "I wish I could forget as easily as you do," she mumbled.

That was like a stab to the chest. "Kathryn, I'm not--"

"I have to leave now. I don't--I don't wanna make this anymore confusing than it already is." She turned on her heel and hurried off.

Spike felt like she had literally ripped out his undead heart and filled the hole with ice. It would have been easier if she had told him she hated him. It would have been easier if she actually did not like him anymore. But knowing that she did like him, but couldn't be with him for one reason, one stupid, pathetic reason, made it so much worse.

Spike growled at the sky and walked off in the opposite direction, deciding that yeah, he _did_ want to play a round of Don't Know Kyle at the Fish Tank.

* * *

Kenny scowled as he stared down at his drink. Maybe he had come on too strong, but it wasn't his fault he had assumed she wanted it. Sometimes he hated how women can be. He hated how they expected him to take them on dates, and not give him something in return. It was frustrating. He'd take a girl somewhere, have a good time with her, and all she would do was give him a smile, say goodnight, and maybe kiss him on the cheek. If Kathryn hadn't wanted him to grab her boobs or kiss her, then she shouldn't have agreed to go with him to the Bronze. If she didn't want him to make a move, she shouldn't have showed up in that wonderful shade of red.

Kenny would never rape a girl. But seriously, it was no wonder girls were raped when they led guys on like that and changed their minds halfway through. Sometimes he hated being noble. Sometimes he wished he didn't have a conscience, because then he wouldn't ever have to feel guilty for thinking those thoughts. Because every time he got upset that a girl didn't put out, and for a split second he felt like smacking her, or doing what he wanted anyway, guilt inevitably followed, along with a deep sense of shame.

But it wasn't like she was Little Miss Innocent, either. What was her problem, agreeing to go on a date with him when she had been drawing pictures of a guy and swooning over him instead of Kenny? Why had she bothered to go along with him if she'd been busy doing God-knows-what in the shower with him not a few hours before their date?

He had thought she was a sure thing. He'd been so convinced the guy in the comics she'd drawn had been him. He had blonde hair, a slender frame, and he smoked--not to mention he did have high cheekbones. Of course, they were as prominent as she had drawn them, but they had been cartoons, and he assumed that she had amplified some of his qualities. But after seeing that Spike guy, he knew damn well who she had been drawing.

Kenny sighed. He was just going to have to apologize to her tomorrow. There was no other way around it. He'd gotten carried away by grabbing her boob, and had kept on doing it after she told him to stop. What was it about women that made him so crazy? How was it that with a gentle turn of their heads, or a subtle change in how they focused on his with their eyes, that they could make him go form horny to disgusted with himself and guilty in the space of seconds?

Women had always been Kenny's weakness. He liked all types--he liked thin girls, fat girls, smart girls, dumb girls . . . How was it that they could know everything a man wanted, and men didn't understand a damn thing about them in return? All he wanted was to meet someone unique and playful and as willing as him. Someone he could be tender and fierce and intense with; someone who could be anything. Someone who could keep his interest, because he lost it so quickly. One individual girl could ever be enough for him . . . That's all he wanted . . . Why couldn't they give that to him?

Speaking of women, a girl sat down beside him on the table he had been sharing with Kathryn before she left. She was beautiful--there was no other way to say it. Her hair was black as night and fell past her shoulder, and her eyes--god, those eyes--they were large and hypnotic.

"Hey," he greeted, smiling at her as flirtatiously as he could.

"I saw you, like a li'l paper stuck in the sea. Thrown and tossed about just to be chucked back onto the beach." He had no idea what she meant by that, but the way she said it sounded sad. He noticed that she had an English accent, but it wasn't just that which made her voice so interesting, but the fact it had a dreamlike quality to it, a sort of musical lilt.

"Oh . . . Yeah." he nodded like he knew what she was talking about. "So, uh . . . what's your name?"

"Drusilla, my pet." She pointed her index fingers at him and started twirling it, then she moved her fingers about like she had plucked something form the air. "She pushed you away. Hurt you. Strung you along like a li'l dog and left you on the walk. Poor li'l doggy."

"I'm sorry . . . Um, did you want something?" he asked, a little put-off by the way she was talking to him.

"Kathryn, my dear. I can see her dancing around you. She left her scent all over, you see."

Normally, Kenny would have been a little unnerved by the fact she mentioned someone else' scent all over him, but seeing as she had just compared him to a piece of paper in water and a dog being walked, he found he didn't really mind much. Mostly he was thinking about how she had mentioned the girl he'd just been on a date with. "Wait, you know Kathryn?" he asked, looking her over. Maybe she was Kathryn's older sister. Or very hot, young-looking mother. Or a "special friend" that she wrestled in tubs with. Either way, he was suddenly a bit more interested.

"Oh, my dear, I know her quite well. See, she did a favour for me, and I'm ever so grateful." She nodded importantly, and her eyes looked him over, something in the way her green irises sparkled making him smile.

"So she's a friend then?"

She tilted her head. "Hmm. Not quite." She stood out of her chair smoothly and slunk over to him, like a cat, her eyes locked on his. She didn't stop until she was right in front of him, then she leaned down, moving in towards his face, and he smiled. She put her mouth beside his ear and placed a hand on his upper thigh, dangerously close to his manhood. He felt his jeans tighten. "I can feel her all over you, dear. Taunting. Laughing."

"Uh-huh," he agreed dully when she trailed her nails along his thigh, and he could feel them as if she was scratching it along his skin instead of his jeans.

"I can burn you, dearest. I can be hot and cold . . . and tender and fierce . . . I can be who want me to be, luv . . ." She clutched him through his pants and he felt his cock harden. Well, she certainly went right down to business. She nipped his earlobe, then brought it into her mouth, suckling it slowly while she rubbed him. His waist bucked involuntarily. "I'll burn you. I can be your fire. Do you want me? Do you want to feel me? Hot and all around you?"

"Yes. God yes."

She pulled away from him and removed her hand from his groin, grabbing his wrist and pulling him up, so that he was right against her body. She was taking control of the situation, and he certainly liked it. She pressed her mouth against him, and her kisses were hot and hard, and she bit on his bottom lip, hard enough for it to bleed. He winced, but oddly enough, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

When he pulled away form her, their eyes met. She smirked. "Follow me, dearie."

He did. He didn't care if he was being led like a child out o the Bronze. He didn't care if she was the one in charge. Hell, he didn't care if she did him in the back alley and he never saw her again. All he cared about was the fact that he had a hard-on and she seemed determined to do something about it.

As soon as the door that led to the alley shut behind them, he found himself thrown against the brick wall and her mouth on his, hard and demanding. He responded hungrily, stunned at the stranger calling herself Drusilla. It had always been somewhat of a fantasy of his--having sex with a stranger, and never having any obligations or having to deal with the awkward situations afterwards where the girls thought that just because he did the deed with them that meant they were somehow a couple. He didn't have to deal with the guilt of knowing that he was probably being a real douche toe the girls he screwed then kicked to the curb. He wouldn't have to worry about any of that.

Her hands were all over him, roaming his body, sliding up his shirt, her surprising cold hand on his warm chest, making him gasp into her mouth. His hands moved over her body feverishly as well, as if afraid she would leave at any moment, like this was a wonderful dream and he would wake up before he got to finish.

She pulled away from him, smiling at him, lowering her head so that their eyes met. She was rubbing her pelvis against his, stroking him through his pants with her hip, and he ground against her.

And then her face changed. she was no longer the terrific, elegant beauty she'd been mere second ago, but a horrible, twisted version of what a human should be--her eyes golden, her brow thick and her teeth long.

She covered his mouth with her hand before he could yell, and he felt her sink his fangs into his neck.

He tried to scream, but all it came out as was a muffled yell that nobody could possibly hear over the thumping bass of the Bronze. She tore into his throat, his hot blood pouring over his skin if she didn't manage to capture it in her mouth, and he realized quite suddenly that he was going to die in a dirty back alley with a stiffie.

What an embarrassing way to go.

* * *

A/N-- Oh my God! Dru killed Kenny! You bastard!

I just had to get it out of the way.

Oh, and for future reference, wrestling in a tub is bleeding hard.


	23. Chapter 23

Contrary to what most people would think, it wasn't the loud, drunken groups that ever bothered Kyle. Most of them had a designated driver who usually looked like the bench warming loser of the group that they allowed to tag along because of some stupid, pathetic reason or another. It wasn't the Drunk Tough Guys, either.

It was the guys who didn't drink.

In a bar like the Fish Tank, people didn't come to drink virgin pina coladas by themselves. It was a mixer. It wasn't a club. It was a low-class trashy dive where alcoholics and whores consorted. The dance floor was never crowded. Only a few people were ever out, if anyone was out dancing at all. People came to the Fish tank to get drunk, laid, or both.

And men who came in alone without the intention to drink were never good news.

Kyle had been a bartender since the age of eighteen. Of course, he worked at a demon bar where they didn't care about legal bartending age--or anything legal, for that matter. When he'd turned twenty-one, he moved over to a normal human abr. So Kyle had experience, and he knew that there were some bars that non-drinkers would go to, and there were some where non-drinkers would avoid. And the Fish Tank was the type of bar any self-respecting non-drinker would avoid.

Kyle kept his eye on the well-dressed man in the back. He had ordered nothing but a soda, and that soda was still untouched and probably stale by now. He wasn't drinking, and Kyle knew what guys like him came to bars for.

Men who didn't drink and came to dives like the Fish Tank were only looking for one thing, and that was a drunk-off-her-ass girl to rape. If two drunks decided to get down, then it didn't bother him at all. They'd both have to deal with their consequences. But when one was drunk and the other wasn't, he didn't care how many times the guy swore up and down the girl had consented. But he knew that guys like that didn't care about consent at all--drunk girls weren't exactly the best fighters around, and if a guy decided he was going to have sex with her, he was going to do it, whether she wanted to or not.

So instead of watching the drunk, boisterous boys playing pool and sloshing beer over themselves, he stared at Mister Wannabe Actor that sat in the dark corner and watched the only girl in the place. He was wearing a silky, maroon shirt tucked into black slacks, and had thick, black hair that only existed in over-stylized soap operas. He had an amazing, smooth tan that screamed "tanning salon" and large, green eyes. Kyle knew that the guy was probably what most girls would think of as attractive and judging by the way the waitress kept going over to his table and striking up a conversation with him, he was probably right. It was the exact same type of guy that other men knew were complete douches who got off on using women. Charming, good-looking, and unmarried usually meant one of two things--gay, or complete dick. He was the guy that women fawned over and men hated.

And he had his eyes on the lonely, good-looking girl sitting at the bar.

The girl had come into the bar with tears streaming down her face, and the tears hadn't stopped once since she sat down at the bar. She never spoke except to order a drink, her face resolute and stiff, silently crying while she sipped her gin and tonic. She swayed slightly in her seat and slouched over more and more with each drink.

Kyle didn't know why she was upset, and he didn't want to know. All he knew was that whatever had happened to her bothered her, and she'd come in wearing a nice pink dress and full makeup on, her black hair pulled up in a classy up-do. His instincts told him that she'd either been stood up, dumped, or had an argument with a boyfriend on a date. It didn't matter was what wrong. All that mattered was that something was wrong, she was drunk and beautiful, and that Sex Offender Bob was staring at her in ways more suitable for a porno.

It was late at night, and so he was the only bartender on duty, and there was only one waitress--and it was, of course, the waitress he hated working with because she was a massive whore and got huge tips for shamelessly flirting with the men that came in, and never did a damn thing more than she had to, especially if it had been Kyle who asked. She hated Kyle for the simple reason he didn't want to go and contract some STD from doing her in the back alley. He turned down her offer, and ever since then, she went out of her way to show him how much she didn't care about what he thought by never doing a thing he asked.

When the doors opened and he saw Spike come, he let out a small sigh. Kyle had no idea why Spike came to the Fish Tank as often as he did, offering up crumpled bills and drinking until closing time or until he was so drunk that walking out of the bar seemed to be a chore. He didn't come every day, but he came enough for the waitress to recognize him and call him by name.

Kyle pretended like he didn't know who Spike was, and Spike acted like he didn't know Kyle either. However, that didn't' stop Kyle from wondering why he came here often. Spike always sat at the bar, so that Kyle would have to be the one who gave him his drinks. That didn't stop the waitress from always flirting with him, and Spike often flirted back, but only casually and briefly. Kyle knew that Spike wanted it to be Kyle who served him, and the waitress knew it too, and so she was convinced he was gay. Kyle just had to laugh, because he knew for a fact that he wasn't.

"What can I get for you today?" Kyle asked, still keeping his eyes on the guy in the back.

Spike held a ten between his first two fingers. "Bourbon," he answered, which is what he always got anyway.

Kyle tugged the bill from Spike's grasp, keeping his eyes on the pretty girl and the pervert. When he returned with Spike's change, he slid it across the counter and didn't even watch Spike pocket the money. He filled a glass full of bourbon and placed it delicately on the counter, still not taking removing his eyes.

When he felt an uncomfortably tight grip on his wrist that prevented him from walking away, he turned and gave Spike a dirty look. Spike was staring directly at him. "Something's wrong." Kyle didn't know how Spike had figured that out, but he wasn't going to ask how. "What's goin' on?"

"Douchebag Supreme," he answered, jerking his head in the direction of the corner the man was sitting in.

Spike turned in his seat and glanced back at the man who had had Kyle's attention for the past hour-and-a-half, still clutching Kyle's wrist. When he turned back, he raised an eyebrow at him. "He's not a vampire."

"Never crossed my mind he was, Spike."

They stared at each other, Spike's blue eyes intense, and Kyle had no idea what was going on behind that steel gaze. Finally, Spike released Kyle's hand and turned to his bourbon, as if nothing had happened.

Kyle didn't understand what was going on, or why Spike had broken their unspoken agreement of not speaking to one another except for the necessary giving and taking of orders. He didn't know how Spike knew something was wrong with him, but then again, he assumed it was some odd vampire thing.

When the girl pulled out a cell phone and called for a taxi, the pervert in the back moved to a table closer to the exit. Kyle sighed, the beckoned the waitress over to him. Rolling her eyes, she left her group of pool-players behind and joined him behind the counter.

"What do you want, Kyle?" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "Unlike you, I actually have to work for my money."

Kyle pursed his lips. She always tried to imply that Kyle didn't actually do anything, when he was the shift manager, and remembering and making drinks on busy nights wasn't exactly easy. However, he let the insult slide in favour of more pressing matters.

"Could you walk her outside and wait for her taxi? I'm sure you've . . . _inspired_ them enough to get generous tips."

She looked him over, her attractive mouth turning upwards in a cold sneer. "I'm a waitress, not a babysitter."

"You know I can't leave the bar," he murmured darkly. Normally he would have waited with the customer outside--that was what he always did in LA--but being in a small town like Sunnydale meant he didn't have as many people on the late shift as he would have liked, especially since Aidan had decided work was beneath him and didn't have to show, seeing as his father owned the Fish Tank.

"Not my problem. And not my job." She turned around and sashayed over to the table again, leaning over and putting her elbows on the table, showing off her spectacular ass and bending low so they could all see down her blouse with minimal effort.

Kyle turned back around to tell the woman who had been sitting at the bar that he would give her a drink on the house--anything to get her to stay a little longer--but when he turned back to look at her, she was already across the bar, heading towards the door. He cast a glance at the pervert in the back, whose large, green eyes were fixed on her like a snake watching a mouse edge closer to its mouth.

As soon as the door shut behind her, he noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively glanced at it, and saw Spike get off of the barstool and start heading in the same direction. The pervert in the back moved to get up, but when Spike walked by, he calmly put his hand on his chest and shoved him back in the chair, as if what he'd done was simply routine. The pervert sat there, stunned for a second, then got up and started over to Spike, but Spike simply raised his fist and punched the guy although he was behind him.

Spike left the bar, his duster flapping behind him in the breeze, and the pervert stood there, holding his nose with both hands, then quickly strolling over to the bathroom, blood seeping through his fingers.

Kyle stood there, not quite sure if Spike leaving to go outside with the girl was a good thing or a bad thing. At least with the chip, he couldn't be violent with her--but that didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of her drunken, depressed state, and have sex with her before kicking her to the curb.

However, something inside Kyle told him that what had happened was a good thing, and he very calmly grabbed the glass Spike drank out of, and began to clean it.

* * *

Living for a hundred-plus years could have its advantages. Especially for a guy like Spike. Spending enough time around human, he liked to think he was pretty good at picking up on body language, especially if it was someone he knew. Humans were so predictable, and seeing as he had been one once, it wasn't like he had to learn it all from scratch.

It didn't take Spike long to notice that something was wrong with Kyle. The lights were on, but nobody was home. It was the way he moved, the way his lips were pressed into a firm line, and the way he couldn't keep his eyes off some pouf in the back, even though there was a highly delectable treat of a bird sitting a few feet away. He walked slowly, more like drifted, from place to place, not like his usual humdrum way of moving, the way people did when doing their jobs.

When Kyle went to give him his drink, he grabbed his wrist so that he couldn't walk off. "Something's wrong. What's goin' on?"

Kyle gestured at the pouf in the back with his head. "Douchebag Supreme."

Spike glanced back at him, thinking perhaps that maybe Kyle thought he was a vampire, but he obviously wasn't. He was just some guy with untouched cola, staring at the girl who looked like the world had taken a generous crap on her. He looked back at Kyle. "He's not a vampire."

"Never crossed my mind he was, Spike."

Spike just stared at him, studying his features. Something about that man really bothered Kyle. Spike had seen Kyle with Kathryn and how he treated. He knew that Kyle had gone along with his little lie because of one reason only--being with Spike had made Kathryn happy. Kyle was the protective sort, and he had a fondness for the ladies. Spike supposed it made sense--he'd nearly watched his sister killed--by Drusilla, no less--after watching Spike and Dru massacre his mother and other sister. Of course he was going to be protective.

Spike let go of his hand, and occasionally glanced back at the man who never drank his cola, and kept his eyes on the drunken, depressed chit who sat stonily in her seat and cried quietly. It took all of about five second for Spike to catch on what the pouf was doing. Oh, Spike had done it more than enough times--although not to get his jollies off so much as snack. But seeing as the guy wasn't a vampire, Spike knew he had something other than drinking blood on his mind.

Spike drank his bourbon slowly, letting it roll around on his tongue. Kyle always gave him bourbon that was far better than what he ordered. Why Kyle bothered to give him the good stuff, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to complain.

When the girl got up and left, he waited for the door to close behind her before he followed. After all, eh didn't want to make it obvious he was following her, did he? Girls didn't tend to like thinking they were followed--as was proven to him earlier that night by Kathryn.

Not surprisingly, Douchebag Supreme (as Kyle had dubbed him) got up to follow the girl as well, but Spike calmly shoved him back down in his seat as he passed. Humans were so predictable--the guy came at him form behind, not even bothering to be sneaky about it, and Spike casually lifted his fist and punched him, not even bothering to glance back. Judging by the familiar snap he heard and the shape of the area he'd hit, he'd broken his nose. His chip went off and he winced briefly in pain.

He stepped out in the cooler-than-normal air of Southern California. He saw the girl standing in the dim light of the neon flashing sign. She was wearing a rather nice pink dress that fit her figure perfectly, the strap of which had fallen down her shoulder. She was crying openly now, sucking in sobs. Her black hair had been pulled up in an elegant up-do, but some of the tendrils had fallen out. Her makeup was smudged all around her eyes. It was like a beautifully tragic picture he'd see in a museum.

And to think that the pouf inside had been going to spoil it.

Killing was one thing. Raping, however, was something else--Spike had never jumped on that bandwagon, despite Angelus' many attempts to rope him into it.

He stood beside her and she glanced up at him, finally realizing she wasn't alone. She let out a shuddering gasp and wiped her tears, her sobbing halting, and only short, small gasps were heard.

He reached into his jacket pocket and grabbed his pack of smokes. He pulled a cigarette out of it with his lips, then offered her the pack, so she could take one if she wanted. She stared at him incredulously, her grey-blue eyes swimming with tears. She shook her head and pulled her spaghetti-strap on top of her shoulder, staring down at the ground.

He put the pack back in his jacket and lit his cigarette, blowing out the smoke. He stood there for a second, looking out into the dark skies. "Waitin' for a cab, then?"

She nodded wordlessly, glancing briefly at him, as if afraid he was going to pounce on her.

"Jus' waitin' for a ride myself. My girlfriend's on her way. Doesn't like me drivin' home from the bar, y'see." He watched visibly relax, as he knew she would. A stranger striking up a conversation with a girl in the middle of the night? Any girl would be a little frightened, after all, how often did one hear about raped victims on the news nightly?

He bounced on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say. He'd just come out to make sure that someone else didn't.

"So what's your name then?"

She brushed away some more of her tears. "It's Gwen."

"You all right, luv?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him, as if stunned that he could actually talk. She blinked a few times, then shook her head slowly. "No, I'm not all right."

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

He nodded slowly, accepting that at face value. Some things were just were better off not sharing with strangers. And some things were better off not sharing with anybody.

He smoked silently, staring out into the dark night, pretending to be looking for a car to drive him home, but really just passing the time.

It didn't take long for the taxi to arrive. When it pulled up in front of her, she looked at him, and smiled. "Thanks," she said, although Spike really had no idea why she had said it, but he could hear in her tone that she meant it.

Spike nodded at her, then flung his cigarette out into the street, watching the ember die as the taxi drove off. Whatever went through girls' minds was beyond him, and he'd been alive a lot longer than most men Btu if he'd done something to make her feel better enough for her to thank him as she drunkenly got into the back of a cab, then so be it.

He strolled back into the bar, glaring at the pouf sitting in the back. He was holding a bunch of toilet paper to his nose, and it was stained red. He could smell the blood from where he was standing and his stomach growled. As soon as Spike got a few feet away form him, the man stood up and left the bar quickly, probably looking for the girl, and Spike smirked to himself. Sodding ponce.

He sat at the stool he always sat at, glancing at the fit little tart that always flirted with him, then nodded at Kyle, procuring another bill form his pocket, sifting through the change in his pocket. "Bourbon," he ordered, nodding once at Kyle.

Kyle looked him over, then smiled. Kyle smiled at him. "On the house," he said, and poured him a glass.

* * *

Spike was lounging on the couch, head against the armrest. Giles was watching the news, as he often did, which would normally elicit bored rambling from Spike while he followed the Watcher around, striking up conversation that Giles always replied to, probably because the old stuffed shirt was just as bored as Spike was. Spike wouldn't think it by looking at Giles, but the man had a really great taste in music, and sometimes they would calmly listen to it together and discuss the song itself, and get in small arguments over which song was an artist's best. Or Giles would watch _Passions_ with Spike, although he acted like it caused him great torment, although he never changed the channel or did anything else during the hour it was on.

At the moment, though, instead of going on about how boring the news was, Spike was just looking at a crumpled up piece of paper he'd found in the bathroom when he'd returned late last night. So that was the whole reason Kenny asked her out on a date, then? Because he saw the pictures?

It was obvious that Kathryn had him on her mind, because the notebook paper was covered in little pictures of him. She seemed rather fixated on his mouth, though. Well, that was certainly promising. Except that it wasn't, because she'd pretty much told him that she did like him, but that she couldn't forget what he was and therefore, she wasn't going to be with him. Even though she wanted to.

He looked at the comic, which seemed she had spent more time on than any of the other sketches. It was of him smoking. Twelve panels of him putting a smoke in his mouth, pulling it out, then blowing the smoke. The smoke curled around his face and came out of his mouth every third panel. On the thirteenth, Drusilla was standing beside him, and she told him that "you do know that smoking kills, right?" The comic Spike just stared at her like she was retarded. Spike chuckled at it every time.

There was one other pictures of Drusilla. She had an overly large head with eyes the size of grapefruits and a cheesy grin on her face, and stars surrounded her as well as small fairies. That one made him laugh as well.

It bothered him that she liked him. He found himself wishing that she didn't. That would be far better, in his opinion. Far better to be hated and avoided then be loved and avoided because of some stupid little problem, like him being a murdering psychopath whose only reason for not killing was it gave him a migraine.

". . . found in an alley beside her apartment. Her neighbour found her early this morning. She was last seen alive at a local bar, the Fish Tank, where she got into a taxi and left the area."

That caught Spike's attention. Anything with dead bodies usually did, but seeing as he'd been at the Fish Tank last night, that really got him. He glanced up at the telly, watching the news reporter talk in front of an apartment building. "Witnesses saw her quarrelling with her boyfriend earlier that night, at a restaurant a few miles out of town."

The news showed a picture of the girl in question, and if Spike had had a heart, it probably would have skipped a beat. It was the girl from last night--the girl who had nearly gotten herself raped from a complete ponce. He found himself wondering if she'd still be dead had he allowed the pervert to have his way with her, then found himself wondering if death was probably better.

"Gwen Paulson was only twenty-three years old."

"Did the report say how it happened? Shot? Mugged?" His mind flashed to the pervert at the bar. "Er, sexually assaulted or whatnot?"

Giles turned and looked at Spike with and eyebrow raised. "It did say she had massive neck wounds. Not much of a surprise in this town, however, I suppose her father is a well-respected teacher, and as such, it's being treated as one."

Spike sat up, thinking over the events of last night. He wasn't a complete idiot. He knew what it looked like, and if Kyle saw the reports . . .

Spike hopped off of the couch and hurried over to the phone, not even bothering to ask Giles's permission. He stared at the phone blankly for a moment, then turned to Giles, who was slowly standing out of his chair. "Spike? Is everything--"

"What's their number? The Daltry's."

"Kathryn hasn't told you?"

"Not much of a phone talker."

Giles quickly told Spike the number and he dialled it. It rang a few times, and Spike walked down the hallway as far as the cord would allow, not really wanting Giles to overhear the conversation.

Finally, someone answered. "Hello?"

"Er, hello?"

"Spike?"

Spike nodded, then remembered that the other person couldn't see him. Stupid phones. "Yeah, actually."

"Oh. Well, Kathryn's at school at the moment, so . . . When she gets home, I'll tell her to call you. I'm sure Kyle has the number."

Spike realized that he was talking to Stan, Kathryn and Kyle's father. He felt a little awkward knowing that--he hadn't spoken to him since the night before Kathryn's test, and Stan had admitted to knowing Spike had been the one to murder his family. "Oh. Right. Um, actually--"

"Have you two made up yet?"

"Well, er . . . No, not really."

"Oh. Well, she told me what you did last night. You know, punching that little twerp because he . . . well, yeah." It was awkwardly silent for a moment. "Is it important? Because . . . Well, I don't know if she'll actually call you. After the, you know, her finding out you like to torture and maim people."

Spike would have to be deaf not to hear the cutting tone in his voice. "Er . . ."

"You killed my family. And God knows how many other families you've destroyed. I don't like what you are. I don't like what you've done." Spike cringed. He wondered if any other vampire on the existence of vampires had ever had to have that awkward bit of conversation with a girl's father. "But I like you, Spike."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. This wasn't exactly the direction he thought this conversation was going to go.

"Kyle told me what you did for that girl last night, at his work. That was a good thing."

"Er . . . right. Thanks. Listen, uh . . . I actually called to talk to Kyle for a mo'."

There was a brief second of silence. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, hold on a sec."

Spike glanced over his shoulder to make sure Giles wasn't standing at the front of the hallway, folding his arm and listening to the conversation with attentive ears. He wasn't nearby, so Spike figured it was all right to talk, as long as he kept his voice down.

"Hello?" came Kyle's voice. Spike had never realized how much like his father he sounded, although Stan had a slightly deeper voice.

"You watchin' the news?"

"Yup." Spike winced. Not good. "You too, then, huh?"

"I swear, Kyle, I had nothing to--"

"I'm not stupid, Spike. You have a chip in your head, and you were at the bar when it happened. Unless you can kill with your mind, I'm pretty sure it wasn't you. After what happened last night . . . I trust you."

Spike blinked a few times. That was odd. Kyle, a guy who hated his guts, trusted him? Spike knew he should be extremely offended by the very suggestion that he was trustworthy because he was an evil, bloodsucking fiend, but . . .

"Oh. So, er . . . Who d'ya think did it?"

"Some vampire, I'd wager. It's not like there aren't fifty-thousand of those freaks running around Sunnydale. God, how should I know, Spike? They're your friends--not mine." Even if the wanker trusted him, it was obvious he still didn't like him. "It'll just go down as another unsolved murder case. No prints, no witnesses to the crime, me, you, everyone at the bar probably has an alibi since nobody did it but some stupid vampire."

"It was just so close to her apartment. In the alley, they said? Why the hell was she in the alley? I mean, wouldn't the driver drop her off at the house?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Why do you care so much?"

Spike shrugged. He had no idea why. It just bothered him. She had been standing beside him not a few minutes before she died. "Dunno. It's just . . . she was right there, you know? I talked to her. Maybe if I had . . . I dunno, invited her here or got in the cab with her, got an invite to her place . . . I don't know. Just feels like I coulda . . . prevented it, somehow. She . . . thanked me. I didn't even say anything, really, and she thanked me."

It was quiet for a few seconds too long for Spike's taste. "You still there?"

"Yeah, still here." He was quiet again, but not for very long. "You gonna be okay? I mean . . . you sound a little . . ."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "Yeah, I'm fine, why would I care about some stupid chit anyway?" he snapped, realizing that he had been getting irrationally emotional over some stupid crying girl for no reason whatsoever. "Sodding girl was cryin' her eyes out--vamp probably did the girl a favour, was probably three seconds away from offin' herself before the vampire tore out her throat an'--an' why would I care about her anyway? I'm evil!"

"No, of course, you're right." Spike could tell by his tone that Kyle didn't believe a word he had said. "Anyway, thanks for calling. Oh, and thanks for beating the hell out of that punk kid last night--Kathryn told us."

That peaked his interest. "Oh, she did? Really?"

"Yeah. She was . . . um, upset."

"Well, yeah! The git was gettin' all touchy-feely with her, and he was callin' her things that made me wanna tear out his--"

"I'm not talking about Kenny, Spike."

"Well, would you look at that, I've gotta go," Spike said, with every intention of hanging up.

"You know . . . Things were much better when you were around. Dad was happier, she was happier . . ." Spike blinked a few times. He thought about how her dad had always been pleased when he showed up, and how often they'd drank together, and the time they'd belted out "Bohemian Rhapsody" and wondered if perhaps he had been their first family friend in a long while. He couldn't have made that much of a difference. It had only been a few weeks, after all. Right?

"Well, anyway, I better let you go. Sorry about that girl. Bye."

Spike heard a click, signalling that Kyle had hung up the phone.

He shook his head. Humans were odd.


	24. Chapter 24

Kathryn had been dreading history all day. It wasn't that she felt she had done anything wrong--in fact, she knew she was in the right--she just didn't want to see Kenny. She honestly didn't care if she was being a tease or not. If she didn't want to be touched or kissed, no meant no, and he should stop. Besides, dancing was not an invitation to be groped.

She would have ditched, but then she realized what that would look like to him--like she thought she was in the wrong, but she was in the right. Besides, she imagined that would make him all smug and arrogant. So she was going to show up and sit, and if anyone questioned about her date, or insinuated she was a cold-hearted tease, she would have no qualms telling that person what was what.

She walked in, not even caring that she was still wearing Spike's shirt, although she had changed her pants into slimmer jeans that fit her hips more comfortably. She wore Spike's shirt proudly, not caring it was baggy, not caring it bared her collarbone, and not caring it was the same shirt she'd worn the night before. That had nothing to do with shoving her you-are-in-the-wrong message right into Kenny's face so much as she liked having Spike's scent surround her and having the smooth fabric against her skin. Knowing that Spike had once worn this shirt and had it pressed against his flesh made her stomach flip pleasantly. Even if she wasn't supposed to like him, she wasn't going to pretend that she didn't anymore.

She looked around the room to glare at her former-date.

But Kenny wasn't there.

"Ha, I win," she mumbled to herself, not even knowing what game they had been playing to begin with.

* * *

Kathryn knocked on the door to Rupert's, not even caring that it was Wednesday and therefore, not a training day. She was there to returns Spike's clothes, obviously, and grab the ones Spike had soaked in his fit of immature revenge for her immature prank of turning the shower on for no reason other than to do it. Hopefully, Rupert would be home and therefore he would open the door.

But, of course, he wasn't.

"Kathryn," Spike greeted curtly, then stepped away from the door.

"Why is Rupert always gone?" she asked, although she supposed it was rather rhetorical.

"Always, pet? Out of all the times you've been here and I've opened the door, I think this makes about three. And this time, you're not even s'posed to be here." He shut the door behind her when she walked in. "This time, though, I think he has a lady friend he's goin' to see."

She furrowed her brows. "He's got a girlfriend? Huh." She took her backpack off and placed it on the table.

"So . . . uh, why'd you pop 'round?"

She couldn't help but hear the hopeful note in his voice. She zipped open her bag. "To give back your clothes, obviously. Um, are my other clothes dry? You know, the ones you soaked."

His face fell, but only briefly. "Um, lemme check."

He left the room and she pulled out his pants. She was glad he hadn't mentioned the fact she had said she wished she could forget what he was. She had talked about it with her dad before he left for work, and he had been a good listener--which meant he hadn't said a word of advice, and the only time he did speak was to say that Kenny deserved to get his face punched in, and that Spike was a pretty cool guy.

She'd woken up when Kyle had come home from work, and because she needed to get her feelings off of her chest, she'd blurted out the entire situation to Kyle. How she really, really wanted to be with Spike, but how could she when everything he was disgusted her? Kyle, like her father, had been more of a listener than a talker. She didn't know what she wanted, and would it kill them to give her some advice? But she figured that perhaps they were probably as confused as she was.

All Kyle had said was; "I trust him, Kathryn. Whatever you decide to do, know that."

Did that mean he was okay with her wanting to date him? Because it certainly sounded like it. And she wished it was as simple as that, but . . . It was like a huge part of her was making her feel guilty for wanting to wrap up in his arms and kiss him. She figured that was the primal, slayer side of her--the same side that always told her that he was trouble, the side that made her feel anxious whenever he was around, and not in the good I-have-a-crush-on-you way. The part that she had had no trouble whatsoever ignoring before she knew why it had been sending neon warning signs.

She just wanted so badly not to care about his history. She wanted so badly not to care about the fact the only reason he wasn't killing was because of a stupid chip in his gorgeous head. And perhaps that was what she was looking for. And maybe that was what Kyle had given her. But apparently, that wasn't what she was waiting for.

Sometimes, she just hated herself. Getting a boyfriend should not be that complicated.

"Here you are, luv," he said, coming up beside her, and handing her a yellow shirt and blue jeans. He looked her over, then smirked. "Although, gotta say, considerin' lettin' you keep my shirt. Looks bloody fantastic on you."

She couldn't help but blush at his statement.

"But . . . I'm fond of the shirt, so hand it over." He held out his hand, as if she was going to take whip it off and give it to him right there.

"Yes, Spike, because I'm going to undress in front of you," she muttered, rolling her eyes to emphasize the sarcasm.

"Why not? You've seen me naked--only fair if I get a peek, too."

"What? I never saw you--" She cut herself off when she remembered walking in on him sleeping in the tub once, completely naked, body still damp form the shower he'd taken. Of course she'd looked--she'd never seen a naked man before. It wasn't all she had thought it would be--in fact, she thought the male anatomy looked quite funny. Of course, that didn't stop her from getting completely turned on when she saw his dick resting on his thigh, although to be honest, she had been more focused on looking at his hipbones and his abdomen. "Oh. Well, I closed the curtains to give you privacy, so hah." She stuck her tongue out at him.

He just smiled at her, then turned around and left the room, presumably to let her dress in private.

She slowly unbuttoned the shirt, glancing behind her, half-hoping that he was looking so she could pretend she didn't know he was checking her out in nothing but a bra and jeans, the other half hoping he wasn't and knew that if he did, she would go kick him in the face.

As soon as she slipped into her yellow shirt, feeling it fit snugly over her body, she called; "Okay, done now!"

He walked out of the hallway and stood by her, grabbing his shirt and holding it in his hands, staring down at it with intensity that was undeserved. "So . . . Uh, guess you'll be goin' now."

She thought about what Kyle had said about trusting him, and she knew Kyle, and knew that he didn't trust people very often. "Um . . . maybe, uh, if you wanna . . . patrol with me tonight, you can. If you want, I mean."

He looked at her, tilting his head, as if surprised that she would ask. His eyes trailed over to the bruise on the side of her mouth, which thankfully, was already fading. Nobody at school had mentioned it, although she had noticed a few people looking at it.

"When and where?" he asked, his voice low.

"I'll pick you up."

He smiled at her. "It's a date."

* * *

"Behind you!" Spike shouted as he slammed his fist into a vampire's nose. It cracked underneath his knuckles and sprayed blood everywhere. He watched Kathryn as she elbowed the vampire behind her then roundhouse-kicked the vamp in front.

Because he'd been paying more attention to Kathryn than the vampire he was fighting, the vamp managed to punch Spike in the face. Spike returned to fighting his vampire, swinging wide and hitting him with left hook after right hook, watching as the fledging stumbled backwards with each hit, blood pouring down his face from his broken nose.

He blocked a hit with his right forearm, then plunged the stake into the vampire's heart, watching as it exploded into dust around him. He spun around and saw Kathryn fighting off the two vampire's, which she seemed to be having difficulties with seeing as they were getting in quite a few hits, and she had pretty much taken up the defensive, only block while she tried to move away form them.

He ran at one and grabbed his arms, throwing him away from Kathryn. The vampire nearly fell, but corrected his posture just in time to prevent that. He rounded on Spike and snarled, charging at him.

Spike crashed into him, a blur of fists and feet, kicking a punching him, trying his hardest to wear the vampire down. It wasn't long before he grabbed a fistful of the vampire's hair and was bashing his face repeatedly into the side of a crypt, watching the blood splatter over the cement and smear over the dismal grey stone, before he rammed the stake into his back, watching as he disintegrated.

He turned around and saw Kathryn, who was currently fighting off the vampire of the group who looked to have the most experience. The vampire was female, lithe, and flowed gracefully from one move into the next--obviously, she had taken some sort of martial arts as a human, or had been around a lot longer than the fledglings Spike had just killed.

Kathryn went to stake the girl, but she grabbed Kathryn's fist, shoved it aside, then twisted her body, so that she could kick Kathryn in the back of the head. Spike first initial thought was the girl was really limber, which opened up a whole strain of new, lewd thoughts for a second, then his next thought was that Kathryn was in trouble.

He went towards the girl vampire just to be kicked aside. She threw Kathryn against the crypt, and Kathryn let out a small shriek. As the vampire stalked towards Kathryn, Spike ran up to her and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her in the opposite direction.

The girl stumbled and feel to the ground and Spike walked over to her. He stood above her and raised the stake, only to be kicked in the groin. Intense pain shot through him, so intense that it seemed to move through his whole body and make his knees weak. He fell to the ground, clutching himself, dropping his stake to the ground. Before he could really recuperate, she kicked him in the face and he fell over on his back.

He rolled over on his side and pushed himself off of the ground, the throbbing in his groin dulling but still painful. He grabbed the stake, which was on the ground a foot away from him, and strolled over to her. She was struggling with Kathryn. She had the slayer pressed up against the crypt Spike had bashed the other vampire's head against.

He grabbed the girl vampire's arm and threw her against the stone wall. He lifted the stake, only to have her knock it aside and hit him in the face. He stumbled backwards far enough for her to press one foot against his chest and shove him backwards. His stake flew from his hands when he landed on the damp grass.

She stood above him and raised her foot to stomp on his face, but then she exploded into ash, which rained down on him.

Kathryn stood where the vampire had been. She reached down and offered Spike a hand. He took it and she helped him stand.

Spike casually dusted himself off, grimacing slightly. The fact he'd gotten his ass kicked by a girl and then saved, also by a girl, was annoying.

That was when it hit him. Blood. He could smell her blood. He had only ever smelled it once before, and even then, it had just been a cut on her lip that he'd cause by biting her. He remembered what it had been like to taste her, and the fact he could smell it so strongly suddenly made his stomach growl.

He glanced up at her, and saw that the sleeve of her soft yellow shirt was torn. It was on her forearm, probably only a few inches above the vein in her wrist. The blood was staining her shirt, the red growing steadily, staining more of the fabric with each second.

She noticed where he was looking, and she glanced down at the tear. "Dammit," she whispered harshly, scowling. "My favourite shirt, too." She rolled the sleeve up over the wound, and the demon inside of him stirred suddenly.

He quickly looked down at the ground, the coppery scent of blood filling his nostrils.

"She got in you the nuts. What a bitch."

He nodded, focusing on thinking on the pain between his legs rather than the blood he could smell.

"You okay?" she inquired, and he could hear the concern in her voice.

He refused to look at her, still focusing on the ground. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit--"

Suddenly, the scent of her blood was too overwhelming; too strong. He let out a growl and he felt his face shift into its vampiric form. She gasped and he glanced at her, her brown eyes wide. She had moved her hand forward, as if to cup his face, which meant the bleeding wound was right underneath his nose.

The smell was intoxicating. It surrounded him--warm, human, slayer blood. It had been so long since he'd had a proper taste. His stomach growled as did he, only this time it was in the back of his throat, not nearly as loud as last time.

She was staring at his face--her eyes wouldn't budge from him. And he realized that this was the first time she'd seen his demon. The first time he had vamped out in front of her. She was frozen, her hand near his face, her sleeve rolled up so that the blood was sliding across her pale skin, small little droplets being wasted by falling to the ground. A few inches closer to the bottom of her palm, and that wound could have been nearly fatal. The blood was so thick, so . . . warm . . .

"Sorry," she said suddenly, big eyes blinking rapidly. It was too much . . . smelling it so close was too much . . . "I--I forgot--I didn't mean--"

He stared longingly at it, his mouth salivating, his demon wanting to thrust her against the mausoleum and tears into her soft, smooth flesh, feeling her hot, delicious-smelling virginal blood slide down his throat . . .

"Kathryn . . ." It was more of a hungry and lustful growl than the whisper he had intended it to be.

She stepped closer to him, which incidentally also meant the wound was closer to his mouth. Was she tempting him on purpose?

"You can, um . . . t-taste, i-if you want."

No sooner than the words left her mouth, he grabbed her wrist and forced the wound to his lips. She gasped, but only a little, but he was beyond caring--her blood was hot and sweet and pouring into his mouth. She was letting him drink her.

He could feel it running through his veins, filling his body. Pig's blood could not compare to this--_nothing _could compare to this. She was sweet and hot. He ran his tongue along the wound, feeling her wince and gasp a little in pain, but she didn't pull away. It smoothed every dry spot in his throat.

The nail scratches on her arm were deep, but not deep enough for stitches. Still ,the blood came out thickly, and he suckled her arm, not wanting to waste a single drop. He captured each stray drop that slid down her skin with his tongue, nipping her skin lightly with his teeth, not wanting to hurt her. She seemed to like it when he did that, not that he cared about how she felt at the moment.

His pants were growing uncomfortably tight and he started moaning. The blood of a slayer was a powerful aphrodisiac, and having it so willing given to him, the bloodlust was nigh impossible to act upon. He could smell her fear, but that wasn't all he could smell. He could smell arousal, too. He could taste it on her blood. No way she could deny through fact she wanted him now--not that she ever had--but she had shared her blood with him, her delicious, hot blood, and he could smell her . . . He could taste her . . .

He started kissing up her arm, leaving small blood prints along her skin, until his mouth found her throat, where her jugular was. It was pounding in her neck. He licked the blue vein, feeling it throb, and he growled into her throat. He couldn't bite her . . . The chip would go off . . . She had a stake in her other hand . . .

He forced her against the mausoleum, pressing his body against hers, pressing his hard on against her pelvis, rubbing her. It send shocks of pleasure through him when he did that, and he couldn't help but notice that her hips bucked against him. Her blood was swimming through him. He could smell her. God, it was coming off of her in waves. She wanted him as much as he wanted her . . .

Still grinding against her, he slammed her hand against the stone wall, his fingers entwining with hers. He saw the blood dripping down her pale flesh, heading towards the crook of her elbow, and he leaned forward, licking the trail slowly until his tongue found the two nail gashes. He sucked the blood form the wound, knowing that the blood was started to thin, that soon there would be no more to suck, that she would just have cuts in her arm, cuts with no blood . . . cuts that would scab over . . .

He knew he was moaning. He knew she could feel his arousal through his pants. He was thrusting it against her, after all, feeling the pleasure sweep through him.

He pulled his mouth away when the blood stopped flowing, staring sown at her, Whether she meant to or not, she was rocking her hips against him ever so slightly, and he could see the passion in her eyes, could see it clouded over with lust . . .

He leaned forward, not to kiss her, but to press his fangs to her skin, wanting to feel more of her blood rushing into him. His teeth scraped her skin, and--

--he stopped.

There were already scars there. She had been marked. For a wild second, jealousy pounded through him. Who had bit his slayer? Who? Nobody had the right to drink from her except him!

Then he remembered. He'd seen it happen, of course. Drusilla. Drusilla had tasted her. Hell, _Spike_ had tasted Kathryn on Drusilla's mouth, as they kissed and laughed and groped all the way down the street, avoiding the police.

His groin was still pulsing, still hard. He was still moving against her, his teeth so close to piercing her skin, to cover the mark made by his ex . . .

He felt something sharp against his chest and knew it was the stake she held in her other hand. Apparently, she wasn't too comfortable with his teeth being against her neck.

He took a few steps away from her, staring at her. Her chest was heaving with the breaths she took. "I . . . I think I should go home now . . ."

Spike nodded, licking his lips free of blood.

"Do you, uh . . . want me to walk you?"

She shook her head. "No, um . . . I think I should walk by myself . . ." She stood away from the crypt and started to walk in the direction of her house.

Spike hurried to catch up with her, and grabbed her shoulder, turning her so they could face each other. He brushed her hair away from her face. "I . . . I didn't mean to scare you, if I did."

She shook her head. "You didn't scare me." She reached forward hesitantly, and he eyed the cut on her arm as she did so. It was still bleeding, but only barely, and the blood was starting to dry over, so that it was the sticky, gooey type of blood that came before scabbing. He realized he was still in his demonic form and slid into his human features before she could touch him. She pulled her hesitant hand away. "Sorry . . . I didn't think that . . ." she mumbled.

He realized she'd pulled away because she thought he wouldn't like her touching his face when it was vamped out, when he'd gotten rid of it because he thought it would frighten her. "I don't mind. Did you want me to--"

She shook her head. "No. I just . . . I just need to go home. I'm, uh . . . I'm really confused right now." Her eyes left his face and focused on his crotch. She snorted to prevent laughing, then she turned around and walked off.

He looked down at the bulge in his pants, and groaned. Looked like he was going to have to beat off in the cemetery. He hoped to God Buffy didn't bloody catch him.


	25. Chapter 25

"You're really progressing, Kathryn," Rupert told her, smiling congenially. He was wearing large pads on his hands, and a small sheen of sweat was glistening on his face. "And whilst I am proud of your, er . . . enthusiasm, perhaps there is something fuelling it that you would like to get off your chest?"

Was there something bothering her? Kathryn nearly laughed. Of course there was.

Naturally, she hadn't been able to get the fact Spike fed off of her since she left the cemetery, confused all to hell why she had been so turned on by it. She should have been disgusted. She should have been scared out of her mind. She had been scared, but not nearly as much as she should have. She should have shoved him away, instead of allowing it. And she definitely shouldn't have been aroused by it.

How was she supposed to stop a relationship now? She wanted one. She wanted to be with him so much it was killing her. But she knew that she _shouldn't_ be with him. She shouldn't be with a man who she should hate. She was starting to think her disgust at him killing others was starting to fade, but she held onto it stubbornly, simply because she knew she had to care. She didn't like the stupid game she was playing. She hated playing it with him. She hated knowing that he knew she wanted him and she hated knowing she had to keep pushing him away.

Maybe she should avoid relationship and dating issues at all costs. They were far too confusing for her.

Instead of blurting that out, though, she just shrugged. "I don't know. Just . . . normal issues, I guess. Did I tell you my date with Kenny was a disaster?"

"Oh? I don't recall you saying as such, no."

She shrugged. "Yeah, he tried to cop a feel. I told him to stop, but he kept doing it anyway." She side kicked one of the large, red pads he had taped to his hand. "Asshole."

"Ah. Has he been harassing you the entire week, then?"

Kathryn frowned. "Actually, no, he hasn't shown up to school this whole week. Huh." She threw a few more punches, hitting the pads as hard as she could. "Guess it kinda bothered me more than I thought." She wasn't about to go into details about why she was really upset.

"Yes . . . are you sure it has nothing to do with Spike?"

Kathryn looked at Rupert, and she could tell that he already knew that it did have something to do with Spike. She let out a sigh and lowered her fists. "Really, please, uh . . . don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather not talk about it. I have a dad. I tell him things. It's not your business." She tried to say it as calmly and politely as possible, but she knew that no matter how she said it, it would hurt his feelings.

He recoiled the slightest bit, as if she'd smacked him. She understood why it would hurt him, her telling him that. As far as she knew, Buffy pretty much looked up to Rupert like a father figure. She imagined that the Scoobies all probably did, or they were at least really close to him, at any rate. Fact was, she didn't really know Rupert, except for that he was acting as her Watcher. After she had survived the test, the Council probably assumed that Rupert had everything in control and left it all to him. Either that, or they didn't give a rat's ass about her. He was probably so used to everyone else telling him everything that he just expected her to do it too.

After he blinked a few times, he nodded. "Yes, of course."

She felt a bit of a bitch for saying that, but it was better for her to tell him now than have him dance around the subject for an hour.

"I'm sorry if I offended you."

He shook his head. "No, no, of course not--as you said, you have a father and I--and I do not wish to intrude upon your business, as you said." He didn't sound like he didn't care. In fact, he sounded quite bothered by what she'd said. "As such, I believe we can end training for the day."

He took off the padded, square gloves and headed upstairs, presumably to his room.

Sighing, Kathryn went over to the couch and plopped down on it. Her long-sleeved blue shirt was scratching against her scabbed over cuts from the girl vampire's nails and made it itchy. She'd been scratching at it idly all day. It was stupid. She longed for the days when she hadn't had to worry about injuries showing and people getting the wrong idea about her family. She longed for the days when she didn't have to worry about confusing relationship problems or hurting people's feeling just because she didn't want to replace her father.

Except for the fact she really didn't long for those days at all. Most of those days had been filled with the same, mundane crap as every other day. The days when she only talked when spoken too. The days when all she did was go to school, come home, and do nothing. The days when her and Kyle did absolutely nothing but gripe at each other.

Despite all the drama, she actually didn't mind much of her new life. At least now her and her brother weren't always in screaming matches that could last hours.

She felt strong hands on her shoulders and she furrowed her eyebrows. What was Rupert doing? When the hands started massaging her shoulders gently, she jerked away from them and turned to look behind her. "What the hell--" she began, feeling a slight sense of nausea starting in her stomach.

Spike, who was standing behind the couch, lifted both of his hands up. "Sorry, luv. Thought you looked stressed, s'all."

She let out a long, relaxed breath. "Oh thank God. I thought you were Rupert."

He chuckled. "No. Mind if I continue?"

"Go right ahead."

His hands gripped her shoulders against and started digging into her muscles. She couldn't help but let out a moan. She'd never been massaged before, but it felt absolutely wonderful. She hadn't realized just how stiff her muscles were and how sore she was until Spike started pressing his thumbs and fingers against her skin.

"So . . . how's your arm?" he asked quietly, continuing to massage her shoulders.

"Itchy, kinda."

"Hmm . . . Yeah." He did something with his thumbs that made her arch her back and moan a little bit. "What happened, you know . . . with your arm. I didn't, er . . . you're not . . ."

"I'm not mad, no," she said whilst chuckling. "I'm just . . . I'm confused."

"About?"

"Us." For a second his hands stopped massaging her shoulders and she was afraid he was going to pull away, but then he started kneading her expertly, sending waves of calming warmth throughout her back. "I know I should hate you. You should disgust me. And a part of me . . . The very idea of you makes a part of me, um . . . Angry. Like I wanna beat your face in. But then . . . most of me . . . wants to just say screw it and date you anyway. But I know I shouldn't, so . . . So I don't. It's like . . . Wanting to steal something, but it's against the law, so you don't. But . . . I really, really want to."

"Well you better bloody pick soon 'cause I'm goin' crazy here."

She laughed a little, although it was humourless. How was she supposed to explain that she was waiting? Waiting for anything? Waiting for something, she didn't know what, that would make her forget her slayer side completely? Either that, or for something to happen that would piss her off so much she couldn't stand the sight of him. Everything had been going fine when they didn't speak or see each other much. Everything had been fine until he tried to kiss her in the cemetery.

But things really hadn't been easy at all, had they? The weeks when they hadn't spoken to each other had been hell. Even though through most of the weeks she seethed at him, it was nothing compared to how much she missed him. Her father and brother had even told her she had been extremely moody and depressed those weeks when she didn't talk to him.

She put her head against the back of the couch, remembering what Kyle had said about trusting him. She didn't know what Spike had done to make Kyle go from hating him to trusting him in the span of a day, but she thought about it. "Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?" He leaned over so that he could look down on her, still moving his hands over her shoulders in ways that made her shiver.

"My brother trusts you."

"He told me as much."

"I . . . I don't think I'll ever be able to forget you're a vampire, Spike." He frowned. In fact, he looked downright pathetic. It looked like he was about to cry. "But . . . You know what? I think I might be able to . . . Maybe not care so much . . . I don't know."

He tilted his head. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. So . . . is that you tellin' me we're datin', or is that tellin' me you are gonna hate me from now on?"

"I don't know." She stared at his face, his smooth, human face, and remembered how it had looked for him to vamp out--to have his sharp teeth and grotesque features. She hated herself for not being able to choose. She hated herself for wanting to be around him constantly. She hated herself for jerking him back and forth and jerking herself back and forth. She wanted to know what she wanted--not what she should do, but what she wanted to do.

Spike sighed, then pulled his hands off of her shoulders. Offended and puzzled, she got on her knees and turned around, so that she could look at him. She held onto the back of the couch, watching Spike pace.

He ran his hand thought his slicked back hair, and she was suddenly reminded of when she'd ruffled up his hair in the shower, and how cute he'd looked with it sticking up in all directions, soaking wet and laughing.

He turned back to her and pointed. "You gotta stop it, luv. I can't--I can't take this. You either like me, or you don't. Don't be . . . Don't be leadin' me on then shovin' me away. I'm not sayin' I'll force anythin' on you, I'm not sayin' that, but you can't--you can't give me hope, you can't make me think you'll forget about the whole vampire thing, make me think you wanna be with me, then shove me away!"

She blinked a few times. She knew that was what she was doing, but he didn't understand--he didn't understand what it was like for her. "Spike, I . . . I didn't mean to--"

"Of course you didn't! But I--I don't like this! I don't like knowin' you want me, but havin' you--havin' you refuse to be with me 'cause I'm a vampire! I want you, luv--I wanna _be_ with you!"

"I know, Spike. I do too, but--but I'm just . . . I'm a slayer."

He came at her and she jumped, nearly falling backwards off of the couch, but he grabbed her shoulders and held her tightly, staring into her face. "I'm a vampire, luv. If you can't learn to accept that, then stop leadin' me on. You think I don't know that? You don't think every bloody cell in my body is screamin' at me now to run off? To tear your throat out? Of course it is! But I can overlook that!" He gave her a little shake and she almost shrieked, in fear he would let go of her or his hands would slip and she'd fall off the couch. Kneeling on the cushions wasn't exactly great for her balance.

"Spike, I'm sorry, I'm just--I'm just really confused."

"What, an' you think I'm not? You think you're the only one who's got a thousand different bloody voices in your head? We're meant to _kill_ each other. It's not just you. I'm so . . . I'm so bloody confused right now. I wanna kill you. I wanna love you. God, you're around me every second, in my head . . . I know what I should want, an' I know what I should do, but it's not--it's not what I want, I can't help it . . . You honestly think you're the only one sufferin' here?"

Kathryn felt a wave of guilt. Of course he knew what she had been feeling. He was in the same boat as her. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts, thinking she was the only one to feel as she did, that it hadn't occurred to her that he was meant to kill her to. It wasn't just her primal instincts telling her to beat his face in. He had the same instincts she did. She'd been so selfish.

"You think I like this? You think I'm not confused? 'Cause I am, luv, I am. I'm fallin' for a slayer."

When the words left his mouth, he paled and his eyes widened. He looked just as surprised as she was. "You're . . . falling for me?"

He blinked a few times, and it seemed like he was looking at something behind her--looking through her. Suddenly, his vision focused, and stared in her eyes, as if he'd never seen her before. "I think so," he whispered, in the way people whispered when frightened.

Kathryn didn't know what to say. She knew that it wasn't a declaration of love. She knew that he didn't mean he was in love with her. But it meant that one day, he could be.

"Spike . . . I . . ." She couldn't think of what to say. She knew what she felt for him. She knew she liked him a lot more than she had ever liked anyone else. But she didn't know if it was love. She didn't know if she was falling for him. She didn't know anything. She'd never experienced this before. He looked so vulnerable. She had never seen Spike look that way before. "I want to go patrolling with you tonight," she settled.

His left hand went up and cupped her face, his calloused thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "D'ya even have to ask?"

* * *

Spike was lying on his back, fingers interlaced behind his head, while he stared up at the stars. It had been awhile since he'd bothered to look. With Dru gone, it had never really crossed his mind to stare up at the sky. But now that he was, he remembered why it never bothered him when Dru asked to look with him.

"Dru woulda loved this. Look how bright they are today."

Kathryn was lying on the ground beside him with her hands behind her head, so close their elbows were touching. He briefly glanced at her and saw that her eyes were wide and she had a large smile on her face. "There's no moon. That's why."

He turned back up at the sky and let out a sigh, feeling the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a lazy grin. "You got her right, you know. In that picture."

"Huh?"

"You had this crumpled piece o' paper. You drew her on it. Head all big, large eyes, stars sparklin' with fairies 'round her head. It was in the bathroom."

"Oh."

Spike glanced at her again and smirked. By the way she was blushing, he figured that he wasn't supposed to have found that picture. He looked up at the sky again.

To be honest, he had no idea how they'd found themselves in that position. One moment, they had been patrolling, fighting off vampires and quipping about how pathetic most of them were (probably fledglings--Spike refused to believe that any vampire having been alive longer than a month could be so pathetically talent-less against a slayer) and the next, he'd was relaxing on the cool grass of the park with Kathryn beside him.

He was aware of the fact she was moving and he looked at her again. She was now lying on her side, using her hand for a headrest with her elbow against the ground beneath her. Her eyes were roving over his face and his body slowly, and with the hand that she wasn't currently using to put her head on, she started drawing idly on his stomach.

Spike had always been ticklish, he remembered, when he was a little boy, how his mother would torture him endlessly about it, with him laughing so hard his sides would hurt and tears would stream down his face. As he grew older, though, and Drusilla had found out his secret, he found that being ticklish led to completely different feelings than it had as a child. Mostly horniness.

It felt great, the way she lightly traced her finger over his shirt. Tingles filled him and he breathed quicker out of reflex. She had to have known he liked it, because she had a small smile on her face. The last time she'd done that, he'd nearly kissed her.

"Spike?"

"Yeah pet?"

"Why do you breathe?"

He sucked in a breath through his teeth when the tip of her finger grazed over a particularly sensitive area. That was actually a pretty good question. He thought for a moment, relishing the feel of her gently tickling him. "You ever home alone?"

"Yeah," she said, drawing the word out slowly like she thought he was being stupid for asking.

"When you're home, an' there's no one around, you still shut the bathroom door when you go?"

"Uh-huh."

"There ya go."

It took her a second to understand what he meant, then she laughed. "You really are a geek sometimes." She brushed her finger over the sensitive spot again, probably just to make him suck in the breath between his teeth and she him wince a bit. The tingling sensations she was giving him were going straight to his groin, and he knew for a fact she knew it was turning him on, otherwise she wouldn't be grinning wickedly while she did it. "So . . . How come my brother suddenly likes you?"

That question he was a little less enthusiastic about answering. He let out a sigh and her finger stopped drawing on his stomach briefly. A few second later she started drawing on his stomach again, and he gave in.

"A girl. She was at the Fish Tank. Some guy in the back, not quite gentleman-like. Had his eye on her. Type o' guy who likes to take advantage of depressed, drunk girls in bars--an' I don't mean drinkin' their blood, pet. Kyle couldn't leave the bar, so I did. Waited outside with her, 'til the taxi came an' she went home."

Her brown eyes met his, and it was like fire shot through his body. There was something in her gaze that excited him, something that made his breath catch in his throat. As quickly as her eyes met his, though, they flickered away, and focused on her fingers, the one she was idly dragging along his shirt.

"It's why Dru dumped me, she said. Why she was throwin' herself at Angelus. Said I'd gone soft. I threw a bloody fit--told her I was not _soft._ She was just upset I truced with Buffy. But I don't know . . . Sobbin' over her, beggin' her to come back to me, comin' up here an' spendin' all my time with you . . . Waitin' with girls to make sure they don't get taken advantage of . . ." He furrowed his eyebrows when he remembered how much it had bothered him that Gwen had been killed. "I don't know, maybe I have gone soft."

Her eyes met his again and the fire returned. There was something about the way she was staring at him, something that made his throat go dry. Something that made his stomach lurch, as if he'd missed a step going downstairs. As if he were falling.

She leaned over him, taking her hand away from his abdomen and placed it on the ground beside his head. She brushed her lips against his so gently he barely felt it. It was soft and brief, but it was different from the other times he'd kissed her. Those kisses had been urgent, quick, demanding . . . She kissed him like she had all the time in the world.

She gently laid her head on his chest, his entire body warm and tingling, as if electricity was swimming through his veins. He was content, calm, relaxed, but at the same time, giddy and excited, like he wanted to jump around and holler.

He didn't know what he'd said or done, but he was glad. Even if the kiss was not one he'd give to a lover, it wasn't one he'd give to his mother, either. And his body was still reacting as if it hadn't ended.

He wrapped one arm around her and listened to her hum a little. "Spike? Can I listen to your heart not beating?"

Spike chuckled deeply. She sounded so innocent; so childlike.

"Yeah."

She relocated her head on his chest, so that her ear was above his heart. He closed his eyes and held her tighter, feeling her warm breath through his shirt. Spike could really get used to having her in his arms.


	26. Chapter 26

Kathryn awoke with a smile on her face. It was a Saturday, she got to sleep in, and she felt . . . happy. There was no other way to describe it. Patrolling with Spike had gone wonderfully. She was tired of refusing to give in. that was what she wanted, wasn't it? To give him. And Spike, despite what he was, didn't seem to be that bad of a vampire. He was evil, but she couldn't quite find it in her to care. The slayer part of her was still a little wary about being around him, and she knew she should feel guilty. But she didn't. She was still confused, still sickened by what he had done, but her feelings of joy when he was around overshadowed that. Being around him made her happy. Being with him made her happy. And tah'ts what she wanted. She knew that she probably wasn't the best slayer. She was doing what Kathryn wanted, not what the slayer wanted. But after giving in, she just couldn't care.

When he'd told her what he'd done for the girl, and when he told her that Drusilla dumped him for being soft, she knew that was what she'd been waiting for. Why it was that, she didn't know. When she heard it, though, she couldn't hold back anymore. He was right--she'd been selfish in toying with him. She'd been selfish in think she was the only one who was confused. And Spike had finally given her what she'd been hoping for; a reason to tell the slayer inside her to back off.

She already knew she wasn't a good slayer. She'd allowed Drusilla to live. Not exactly the right thing to do. She'd tried to be a proper slayer, but at the moment, she didn't care. When it came to Spike, her slayer half could go to hell. She was happy--happier than she had ever been in her entire life. She hadn't realized just how depressed she had been when they were fighting until she kissed him.

Just thinking about their kiss made her heart skip a beat. It wasn't nearly as passionate as the one they shared in the tub, but still, it felt . . . better, somehow.

She walked into the kitchen to see Kyle already eating his cereal. Her dad was sitting across from him but he wasn't eating so much as reading the paper. Kyle glanced up at her, raising his eyebrow. "What are you all giddy about?"

"Oh, nothing . . . just that I kissed Spike last night."

Her dad looked up from the papers, his hair hanging in front of his hazel eyes. "You did? Oh . . ."

Her dad's tone worried her. "Um . . . are you mad?"

"No, no, it's just . . . Nothing." She raised an eyebrow at her dad, and he sighed. "Honey, I like Spike, I really do, I just . . . I wanna make sure that you're, you know . . . sure about this."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I . . . I've been thinking about it pretty heavily for a long time, Dad. I wasn't sure, I was confused but . . . After last night, and after what Kyle said he did for that girl, I can do it. I'm happy with him. I'm sure."

He slowly stood up from the table and walked over to Kathryn, putting a strong hand on her shoulder. "Kathryn, look . . .Spike, well . . . He's done some things in the past. Are you sure you can . . . deal with that? He doesn't even have a soul."

She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to be with Spike and he made her happy, so of course she would be with him no matter what her dad said--she was eighteen after all--but she hated it when her dad made her feel guilty. "Dad, I know what he's done."

"You don't know everything, honey."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, I can't, he's been alive for so long, but . . . but I like him Dad."

"I meant something . . ." He trailed off, squeezing her shoulder tightly. His expression worried her, but then he just cleared his throat. "Look, I like Spike. He's a cool guy. He should come over more often, really he should. But I don't like what he's done. I'm willing to . . . look past all that, but there are some things that maybe . . . maybe you won't be able to."

She let out a quiet sigh. "I like him. He's my first boy . . ." She closed her mouth, not quite sure if she should refer to him as her boyfriend. One kiss with him when they both liked each other didn't mean they were dating. Did it? "I'm sure."

He looked like he was about to say something else, then he just nodded and walked back to the table. "Well in that case, congrats. And about time, too. Maybe now he'll come over more often. I need a drinking buddy."

Kathryn laughed, although it was only half-hearted. Something about her father's demeanour really bothered her, and the way Kyle and him kept shooting glances at each other wasn't helping things any.

* * *

As soon as her head the knocks on the door, Spike knew it was her. He ignored Buffy, who was getting out of her seat, and Willow's knowing look in his direction. He rushed to the door and practically yanked it open.

Kathryn stood there, grinning like mad, and despite his better judgement, he reached forward to grab her in a hug, only to have the sun's rays hit his bare arms and start to sizzle. The pain didn't last very long, though, because she threw herself at his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. He chuckled and walked backwards, kicking the door shut with his foot, and captured her mouth with his.

"As much as I enjoy a Hallmark moment, this is so not what I wanted to see today," Buffy aired loudly.

Kathryn nearly leapt away from Spike, and her cheeks burned a bright red. Spike smirked cockily, then put his arm around her shoulder, glaring at them all, daring them to say anything about his new relationship.

"Uh . . . sorry, didn't see you there . . ." Kathryn mumbled, looking down at the floor. "You guys usually aren't, you know . . . hanging around."

"Oh, there's no hanging, just . . . research-y things. Xander and Anya should be by later when they're, y'know, not busy." Willow let out a sigh and shook her head. "What Xander sees in her, I don't know."

"Prob'ly her wide open legs," Spike mused. They both looked at him with their brows furrowed, probably disgusted by what he had said.

"So what's with the research? New demon?"

"Nah, pretty much same-y. Lots of new vampires wandering around recently. I've watched more vampire crawl out of their graves the past few weeks than I have in my whole life."

"And that's weird?" Kathryn inquired, sitting at the table and plucking a book, opening the cover. Spike wondered if Kathryn even knew what she was looking for, or just doing what she thought she was supposed to. Sighing, Spike sat beside her, but he didn't grab a book--just put his hands behind his head and relaxed.

"Kinda. Vamps? Not really much into the siring." Buffy shrugged, turning an old page. "Usually they just kill and drink. I mean, yeah, sometimes you get the vampire who sires anybody who's remotely interesting, but well . . . Yeah, siring? Kinda like marriage. Or something. Spike?"

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. Usually when they researched they pretty much ignored his existence, unless Buffy wanted to insult him. He noticed that she had a forcibly polite tone. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Not exactly big on the sirin', luv. Done it a few times. Last time was, er . . . What, two years ago, about? Your friend. Annoying prat. Ford, right?"

Buffy's lips pursed suddenly and he saw the fire in her green eyes. He smirked at her. Buffy let out a harsh sigh, then turned back to the book. "Yeah."

"Most of us don't sire 'less there's a need. You know, like if we wanna start some pathetic gang of newbies, or to try and learn the ropes of what it is to be a vampire. You know, like a tutorial. 'An' this is how we sire others, kid, try it out' and all that sort of nonsense." Spike shrugged, turning his attention back to Kathryn, who was looking at him with wide, interested eyes. He smiled. He liked how she did that. "Or, you know, if we wanna be with someone. So yeah, bit like marriage. Sometimes. Not something most do a lot--but enough to keep the slayer busy, apparently."

Kathryn hummed a little. "Oh. Guess I didn't really think about it that way, 'cause I've fought a few just after they get out of their graves, too. And I've fought some guys in the park who didn't even know what a slayer was."

"Not too surprising. Didn't know what one was either for awhile."

"So, lots of siring going on then? And this is bad?" Kathryn asked, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Spike understood her confusion--there weren't any more deaths than normal. If they hadn't have been sired, they'd still be dead. Extra fledglings wasn't exactly anything Spike would have worried about.

"Well . . . No, just . . . Worrying. I mean, anytime the demon population start acting weird? Means something extra bad is comin' my way. They're like dogs and cows. You know, who they start acting all funky before a natural disaster?"

"I'd like to think we're a bit more complex than cattle, Summers. Though, strictly speaking, you lot are the cows."

Willow furrowed her eyebrows. "Cows? How are we--" She cut herself off, her expressive eyes widening. "Oh. With the eating. Okay."

"Thank you for the imagery, Spike. And I'm so not a cow. I'm more of a gazelle."

"Fodder, anyhow."

"Well, like you said, you do eat us. Being compared to cow isn't exactly charming Spike. My hips aren't _that_ big."

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "God, you women are so bloody confusing. Did Red here tell you that she was _offended_ when I couldn't bite her?"

"Willow!" Buffy reprimanded, her mouth open and eyes wide.

Willow turned a dirty look to Spike, which was more cute than it was dirty. "I was just dumped! I was livin' the low self-esteem-y grief of being recently single!"

Spike just laughed at her. She was damn cute was she was annoyed and embarrassed.

"And--And it wasn't so much about you biting me, but you--you not _wanting_ to bite me. Far as I'm concerned? Biting is of the bad. Harmony did it once, you know. Not fun." Willow was still blushing deeply, and Kathryn was chuckling beside Spike. "It wasn't about you drinking any of my blood at all--because that is . . . well, it's gross."

"Not really," Kathryn stated. Buffy and Willow looked at Kathryn, and Spike turned to regard her to, grinning at her and raising an eyebrow. He had smelled how much she enjoyed it. When she realized they were all staring at her, she shrugged. "What? Some bitch cut me with her nails. Look." She lifted her sleeve, and all that was left of the cut was a soft, pink line, like an almost-scar. He knew that by the next morning, it would be gone. "Spike . . . um, well he . . . drank it. Tasted it. Wasn't really that bad."

He knew that was the understatement of the century. Then again, he figured if Kathryn didn't want to tell them all they'd practically dry-humped against the crypt while he made out with her arm, then she didn't have to.

Buffy furrowed her eyebrows. "She's right, Will. Not really that bad when it's done . . . um, a certain way. When Angel bit me? Not exactly . . . Well, it wasn't a bad feeling. Until he lost control."

"Angel bit you?" Kathryn asked.

"He was sick. Only the blood of a slayer would cure him. It wasn't his fault he lost control. He would have never bit me if he was in the right state of mind."

"Not even if you asked?"

Buffy looked at Kathryn as if she'd asked the dumbest question on the planet. It was the same way Spike had looked at Harmony whenever she asked a mind-numbingly idiotic question--something that, by all rights, she should have known but hadn't.

"What? No, of course he wouldn't. More importantly, why would I ask him to?"

"Well . . . like you said, it's not . . . it's not bad. If done right. Right?"

"Well, he was going to die if I didn't." She looked Kathryn over, then her eyes slid over to Spike. "He hasn't bitten you, has he?"

"No. He just licked the blood on my arm is all." She shrugged, but he caught the slight pink tinge on her cheeks. "I was bleeding, and he was staring at me, so I asked if he wanted to taste, so he held my arm and he licked the blood."

"Well, trust me, it's a little different when he's got his fangs in your neck. It's a primal feeling, a scary, kinda erotic, feeling."

"So . . . it turned you on?" Kathryn asked, and he could see the relief etched on her face.

"He was on top of me, and . . . and it was the most intimate thing we could ever do without him losing his soul. Yeah, it turned me on. In a weird way, he _was_ inside of me. But it's not something I would ever ask for. It hurt, but at the same time, knowing we were sharing blood, it was . . . yeah." She cleared her throat and rearranged the book although it didn't look like it needed to be rearranged. "But I would never ask. It's . . . it's too . . ."

"Degrading?" Willow offered slowly.

"Yeah. I shouldn't have liked it, but I did. Like getting off on rape or something."

"If you like it, if you _consent_ then it isn't rape. I see nothing degrading about enjoying something, as long as you really enjoy it. Degrading is allowing it to happen if you don't," Kathryn said, fiercely, and Spike understood why. She was justifying liking Spike drinking her blood. "Like I was talking with a girl before I moved here obviously, and she said her boyfriend dumped her because she let him do her in the ass. He said he would never date a girl who would degrade herself like that. But she said she liked it. Is it degrading to like something? Why the hell should you be ashamed for liking something?"

"That's why it's degrading, Kathryn--because you _shouldn't_ like it, and you allow yourself to like it," Buffy explained, as if Kathryn were a child.

"What makes something wrong to like, then? I get it if it hurts others--you know, like murder and rape. If you like killing and if you wanna rape someone. But what happens between two people, behind closed doors . . . If they both like it, then what is so wrong about it?"

Nobody could say anything. Personally, Spike had thrown being proper out the window the moment Drusilla had freed him form his pathetic human life. If he liked wanking with blood as lubricant, than so be it. He did what he wanted. He didn't care if it was degrading. And neither had Drusilla. But apparently, the three girls around him had wondered about what was proper, and what the difference between intimacy and degrading was.

"I agree with Kathryn," Willow whispered, her head lowered, as if she had betrayed all of womankind for saying if a girl like to get dirty and kinky, then it was okay.

Buffy looked at Willow, then at Kathryn. "You know what it's like, don't you, Kathryn? Knowing you shouldn't want something, but you do anyway? I mean, well, you pretty much jumped into his arms when you showed up. You've gotta know what it's like to know you should wanna run in the opposite direction and vomit at the thought of kissing him, but . . . but you don't. You wanna hate him, but you can't. You know you should feel degraded, but you don't. You've gotta know, right? He's a vampire, and you're jumping into his arms."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

"It's the same with me too, you know. Vampire? Not s'posed to be makin' moon eyes over the slayer." Spike smiled ruefully when he thought about it.

"Not exactly inexperienced in that, either," Willow whispered.

Spike, of course, knew exactly what Willow meant. She had opened up to him weeks ago about the Tara girl she was sorta seeing. It was odd to him to think that he shared. He ignored the confused glances Buffy and Kathryn sent Willow's way.

"Huh." Kathryn turned a page in her book. "But Angel wouldn't have ever done it, even if you asked."

Buffy chuckled. "Even if I asked. He was too afraid of breaking me."

Spike scoffed. "Breaking you? What, is he a moron? I'd be more worried about you breakin' him."

"Well, he _is_ a big softie," Willow added.

For some reason, that made Buffy laugh. Spike had never heard Buffy laugh. Thinking of Angelus as a big softie was funny in itself, but seeing his "one true love" laughing at his expense was hilarious. When his laugh tumbled over his lips, it seemed that it broke the barrier holding Willow and Kathryn back, and they started laughing, too.

"I'm missing something funny," came Xander's voice. Spike's head snapped in the direction of eth door to see Harris standing in the doorway, Anya's arm looped through his. "Did you college-goers start smoking the wacky weed? Will, I'm so ashamed! You didn't even think to share it with me?"

"No, no, we're not smoking weed," Willow told him through her chuckles.

"You're sure? 'Cause I wouldn't say no to a little puff-puff."

"Obviously they are not smoking marijuana, Xander. It had a very distinctive smell." Anya spoke with experience, and Spike shrugged. Way he heard it, she used to be a demon, and she was far older than him. He'd experimented with every drug under the sun--why would she be any different? It wasn't as if it was the worst drug to exist.

"Aw, dang. Makes me reminiscent for good ol' Teddy. Of course, not _too_ reminiscent."

"Ugh, speak for yourself. No reminiscing here." Buffy shuddered, although there was a smile still on her face from laughing.

Spike shared a look with Kathryn. They both shrugged. They had no idea what the Scoobs were talking about. The memories that bound the Scoobies together, that made them so close, was what pushed him and Kathryn away--but similarly, Kathryn and Spike's shared confusion and not belonging bonded them.

However, Spike sensed that it bothered her. He could tell by the way her lips pursed slightly and how she stared at them with a little bit of envy. She often opened her mouth to speak, but then reconsidered and closed her mouth. He knew she wanted to belong. Unlike him, she did care--and why shouldn't she? She spent so much time training with them, only to be viewed as nothing but someone to sit aside and watch? It had bothered her when they'd avoided her in fear of getting attached--he imagined it must be harder now that there was no reason for them to be afraid.

He remembered her saying something about them only accepting her out of necessity and not want. He doubted they had even accepted her in the first place.

He reached down and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She looked at him and smiled gratefully. She didn't look so bothered by the fact she was out of the loop anymore.

"Ugh, so why are we researching? Xander and I were having spectacular sex and you all ruined it."

Willow grimaced visibly an Xander winced. "Honey, remember that thing I was talking about? How there are private thing and public things?" He smiled at everyone apologetically.

"'Sides, doubt we ruined much of it. You two took your sweet time gettin' here. Imagine you had your fill before leavin'." Spike didn't mind the sex talk. After all, it was a natural thing to do, wasn't it? And it's not like Buffy and Willow were untouched virgins.

"Three times," Anya announced proudly, sitting on the empty chair beside Spike, and Xander sat beside her, closing his eyes and wincing a little in embarrassment. "He lasts longer if I give him a hand-job before." She patted him on the knee and beamed at all of them.

"So . . . We've got ourselves a big, gooey demon to hack?" Xander aired loudly, clapping his hands together.

"Nah, just lookin' into the recent development of vampires really loving to sire people. Which I'm thinkin' might be some ritual of some kind. Some kind of Hellmouth-y way to get at me. Ugh. I mean, I wouldn't mind it so much, but when I told Giles, he got all worried. You know, he did the whole speech thing about weirdness in Sunnydale meant big demon approaching. Of course, when there's a earthquake and I'm worried, he doesn't care. No, no, it's only when he cares that maybe something bad is gonna happen to me," Buffy said, turning the page a little forcefully.

Kathryn opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it because it closed again, although she had a rather annoyed expression on her face. He noticed she briefly squeezed his hand, but he doubted it was an affectionate gesture.

Xander looked around. "Speaking of the G-Man, where is he?"

Buffy scowled. "At Olivia's. So typical. She comes calling and he gets to go have fun while I'm sitting here looking for rituals that include super-siring."

"Ugh. Boring." Anya sighed, rolling her eyes, then wrapped her arm around Xander's. "The only thing that excessive amounts of siring means is that some big bad vampire is looking to set up a gang and kill you, Buffy. Vampires are pretty much the bane of the demon world I mean, come on. They're not even fully demon."

"Oi!" Spike glared at Anya, whose impassive eyes trailed over his face. "Big bad demon, yeah?"

"Point is, Spike, when it comes to rituals, vampires are useless. You only serve as lackeys. I've seen it a thousand times. Some vampire gets it in his head he wants to start a gang, a big, giant gang, and rather than pick his vampires wisely, he starts siring left and right. Never really works, though. The vampires always turn against each other. Vampire nests are best when they're small. The only time it ever works is when they're picky."

"Well, if that's the case, I'm so not gonna research anymore. This is boring the hell outta me." Buffy shut the book. "Got me all worked up thinkin' that something was after me, some big bad demon was gonna curse me and cause my death, and it's just some big bad vampire tryin' to be a ringleader of pathetic newbie badness."

Kathryn's hands squeezed his tighter, and he noticed she was clenching her jaw. She'd never clenched her jaw before--perhaps it was something she'd picked up from him? The thought that some of his gestures were rubbing off of her made him smirk, despite the fact he knew she was displeased about something.

"Well, that is kinda scary, Buffy. I mean, why would the vampire choose here? I mean, he's obviously trying to get to you," Willow pointed out.

Kathryn's grip on his hand tightened.

"Ugh. Doesn't surprise me. Some loser siring a bunch of vamps to attack me? God, how pathetic can vampires be? Travelling the world just to start up a stupid little gang to kill me."

"Us," Kathryn stated as firmly as the grip she had on his hand was. "Trying to kill _us."_

Suddenly, it made sense why she'd been displeased. Buffy had been going on about herself, like she normally did, completely ignoring the fact that Kathryn was a slayer too--that Buffy wasn't the One and Only.

Buffy seemed to understand and she blushed. "Sorry." It was a genuine apology.

"Are you two holding hands?" Xander asked, completely oblivious to what was going on around him--something that Willow and Anya had both caught onto, and so Spike deduced that Harris really was an idiot.

"Yeah, Harris. Glad you've got keen eyesight. What of it?"

"What of it? Holding hands, that's what! What's up with the hand holdiness? Not a very common gesture between two mortal enemies."

"He's my . . . we're not fighting anymore," she settled with, her eyes moving to meet his, brows lifted in question. He understood. Saying the words would make it final. Saying out loud what she was to him made it real. A kiss could mean nothing. And he knew she was inexperienced.

He turned to look at Xander, smirking haughtily. "She's my girlfriend, Harris."

Xander's face of shock was priceless. Nobody else seemed to be bothered or surprised by it--not even Buffy, although by the way her lips pursed, he figured she was not caring purely out of being polite and nothing more--except the Whelp.

"What? Buffy, you can't--you can't honestly let her--"

"Xander? Calm down. They're gonna do what they want, no matter what I say. And yeah, okay, not a big fan of her dating Spike, but guess what? She's old enough to make her own mistakes."

Spike did notice how Buffy had used the word "mistakes" rather than "decisions" but he wasn't about to complain. She was actually being somewhat accepting of their decision.

"But he's a _vampire._ Humans date humans, and vampires get dusty. There shouldn't be mixing and mingling!"

"Xander," Willow said, a bit harshly, her green eyes glaring. "Who are you to judge? If they're happy, you don't have _any_ right to take that from them. Who cares if it isn't conventional? Who are _we_ to judge conventional? You're dating an ex-demon! I've dated a werewolf!"

Xander spluttered awkwardly, stunned at Willow. Spike was a little stunned, but he understood where she was coming from. He was probably the only one in the room who really got it. She wasn't hearing Xander bitch about a vampire and a slayer; she was hearing him condemn her for dating a girl.

Xander sighed, then stood up from the table. "Come on, Anya," he muttered, glaring at Spike evilly, as if it was all his fault--never mind the fact Willow stood up for their relationship on her own free will, and that he wasn't forcing Kathryn to do anything.

"But Xander, we just got here," Anya moaned, as if she didn't understood anything going on around her.

The door shut behind them, but Spike heard Anya's whining continue as they walked away.

Buffy sighed, then got off of her chair. She glared at the two of them. "You two are far more trouble than you're worth."

She hurried out the door, it slamming behind her. "Xander!" she called from the other side.

Spike and Kathryn were still holding hands, but he noticed how her face fell. Willow looked between them, but instead of glaring or getting snooty, she just smiled. "You guys are cute together, you know that? Don't let them get to you. Me, on the other hand, I _do_ have something to get to, and it's called Apologyville."

With that, Willow left them too, but not before smiling at them a second time before the door shut behind her.


	27. Chapter 27

"Never woulda thought it, but Rupes here has good music," Spike told her while he flipped through some records.

Kathryn was peering at the glass of amber liquid in front of her. "What's this you gave me?"

"Bourbon. You like it?"

She took a sip and rolled it over her tongue. It was bitter, but at the same time, sweet, and sparked across her tongue while she rolled it. Smooth, but strong. Oddly, it reminded her of Spike. She swallowed it, it burning pleasantly down her throat. "Yeah, I do. Where'd you get it?"

"Nicked it."

"From the store?" she asked casually, wondering if the fact she could talk about him stealing alcohol from a store casually was bad or not.

"From Giles. Wouldn't be the first time. He really needs to lock that up properly. And would you look at this?" He slid one of the records out from a line and held up the album, the light reflecting off of the cover while he turned it, staring at it as if he couldn't' believe what he was seeing. "The Clash? I think I might die of shock."

"The Clash?"

He turned to her, and the incredulous look on his face made her feel stupid. "You never heard o' them?"

"No. I mean, I've _heard_ of them, but I've never listened to them. My brother has a tape somewhere, I think . . . But he's more of a Ramones guy. That's what he told me when I asked about it. I was like ten or something. Why? Are they any good?"

"Are they any--" He cut off, staring at her like she'd grown another head. "Well, this is just unacceptable. Right. I'm gonna teach you a thing or two about music, luv."

Kathryn watched fascination as he looked around for the record player, and found it about a minute later. She watched him move, his black t-shirt tight on his body, his arms visible. He wasn't wearing his duster, and so she took the time to stare at his fantastic arms.

When the music started, Kathryn had to admit she wasn't sure about whether she liked it or not. She didn't hate it, but she didn't love it, either. He was staring at her expectantly, his head bopping to the beat, his shoulders swaying slightly. Seeing him look so excited about the music made her grin. He was like a kid in a candy shop. And once she noticed that, the music seemed far more bearable. She smiled at him, and that seemed to make his day, because then he started moshing.

That made her laugh loudly, seeing him dance around like a crazy college partygoer, and the music that she'd been unsure about a few seconds ago was suddenly the best she'd ever heard.

He went over to her and grabbed her arms, yanking her off the couch. She gasped and blushed, pulling away from him, watching him as he started moshing around the living room again. Kathryn really had no idea what she was doing, but she tried to copy his movement, feeling a little self-conscious about it.

Of course, when she realized it wasn't supposed to look good and that she was just supposed to lose herself in jumping and running and swinging her body around, it was fun. Spike and her were laughing together, jumping at each other and missing, or she would flip her short, curly hair around, so that it swung around her head like a fan.

She'd been joining him in his frenzied dance for awhile before he grabbed her arms and yanked her to him, mouths crushing violently. It was hot. It was hungry. It was like moshing, but with lips instead of bodies. Except for they were using their bodies too.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and all of her senses went wild. His hands were all over her, his palms running over her back, sliding into her hair, clutching her waist--as if he couldn't think of where his hands should go. She was having a similar problem. She had no idea where to put her hands--she wanted to find a place and steady them, but at the same time, she wanted to touch every inch of his body.

He tasted like cigarettes and flesh and bourbon. Kathryn had never really found the smell of cigarettes very appealing, nor had she thought tasting the slight nicotine tang on his lips would have drove her insane. She could hear a rumbling in his chest and the sound was coming form the back of his throat. He was laughing. Or moaning. Or possibly both.

She knew she was moaning. With each sweep of his tongue in his mouth she vocally replied with a quiet mewling.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, and she felt light-headed. Breathless. Tingly and shaky and unsure, but at the same time, confident and right. Xander's words of shock and his obvious disapproval had been niggling at her mind since he'd said them. She hadn't expected him to like it, but it bothered her that he couldn't see it. She didn't want them judging her. Though, she supposed, it was easy for them to judge her, because wasn't a part of them. If anything, today had made that blatantly obvious, from the way Buffy kept referring to herself instead of both of them, and how they hadn't spoken to her expect when necessary.

It wasn't any of their business who she dated. But that Xander would act like he had any say in the matter, to her face, as if because he opened his big fat mouth she would change her mind and go with the crowd was frustrating. At least Buffy understood--even if she didn't like it, she understood. She wasn't telling them what to do. And Willow, well . . .Willow was nice. Kathryn liked Willow.

But that didn't mean it didn't bother her. Would they ever stop judging her?

"Am I bad?" she asked, noticing that they were swaying slightly, even though the music wasn't exactly the swaying type.

"Hell no. A novice, maybe. Bloody damn good novice," he murmured, bringing his lips to hers again, but only briefly, and he rested his brow against hers.

It took her a second to understand his answer, then she chuckled. "I meant as a person. But thank you."

He pulled his head away form hers, looking at her strangely. "What? No, o' course not. Why the hell would you ask that?"

"It's just . . ." She sighed, realizing that her arms were around his neck, and that his hands were still dancing lightly across her back. "You're vampire. I should care about this. I should care that you've killed and maimed. But I . . . the fact it doesn't bother me . . . That fact that it's _weird_ for me to think of you as evil . . . Does that make me bad?"

"No." He shrugged, as if this was something he had been expecting her to ask. He probably had. He wasn't stupid, and this was probably something that needed to be asked in this situation. "Don't let the Whelp get at you."

"Yeah, but . . . I get why he's . . . upset. You _are_ evil."

He shrugged. "Yeah. But it's up to you, not him. What do you want?"

"This."

He smirked in that annoyingly delicious way of his, where his tongue rested on his teeth and his head quirked to the side slightly. "And this?" he asked quietly, and his bent down and his blunt teeth bit the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. She arched against him and tried to tell him that yes, she did want that too, but it came out as a whimper. "This too?" His tongue licked up the side of her neck and then suckled her flesh right underneath her jawbone.

"Uh-huh," she managed.

His kisses were light but hot as he kissed up her cheek, nearing her mouth. Her mouth tingled and she turned her head so she could kiss him. It was slow and open-mouthed. His tongue was pressing against her, shivers repeatedly going up her spine.

What seemed like hours later, his exploration of her mouth ended and he pressed his forehead to hers again. The music came back to her full force, and she realized she'd forgotten it was playing. Then again, for their slow sways and shuffling, it seemed they'd both forgotten. It certainly wasn't the type of music she'd normally slow dance to.

"We gonna have to do the whole sneakin' around bit?" he inquired.

"What do you mean?"

"Kyle. Stan. They know about it?"

She nodded slightly, feeling the skin of her forehead move against his. "Yep. And pretty much accepting."

"Well now. Isn't that something."

She pulled her head away from his, her mind going back to her father's behaviour. "Well, I mean . . . I think they're weird about it, but . . . Well, they don't mind. Kinda like Buffy, I guess. Dad was kinda being weird about it."

He cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "Weird how?"

"Just . . . you know, makin' sure I was sure. He said that he liked you, and that you should come over more often, but that he wanted me to be sure I was okay with all the stuff you've done in the past. He said that he didn't like what you'd done but he was willing to look past it, but he wasn't sure I'd be able to. But, you know, obviously I can. He's just being a good father."

However, Spike pulled away form her slightly, so that there was more space between their chest. The look on his face bothered her. "Er, Kathryn . . ."

"What?"

He sighed, then stepped away from her completely. She watched as he calmly went over to the record player and turned it off. She had a niggling feeling in her gut that was growing. Something bad was about to happen. She knew it.

He turned around and looked very much like a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar. "Luv, er . . . well, I need to tell you somethin'. You're not gonna like it. You're gonna be . . ." he trailed off and closed his eyes briefly. "Well, you'll probably hate me."

"No. Don't tell me then," she stated firmly.

"No. I'm not basin' this on . . . on any more secrets, yeah? If I don't say it, someone else will, or you'll piece it together, an' I . . . no, I'm gonna do this right." He walked forward, as if to hold both of her arms, then he hesitated, then pulled away, looking so lost Kathryn wanted to hold him, but she didn't--he hadn't pulled away form her for no reason. "Luv, uh . . . me an' Dru . . ."

That couldn't be a very good beginning to any sentence. He stopped and closed his eyes again, leaving her waiting for him to finish. Were they back together? Was he leaving her for Drusilla? Then why had he been so tender with her just a few seconds ago?

He opened his eyes and started again. "Me an' Dru . . ." He let out a sigh. "We killed your mum and sister."

"What?" she demanded, her voice loud and harsh. The fact that the words seemed to be wrenched out of him, as if they caused him pain, meant absolutely nothing to her.

"We, uh, well . . . we--"

"I heard you the first time!" she snapped, jerking away from him, even though he hadn't reached for her. "You're--you're lying, no, no . . . those--those were two random vampires, and--and I've never seen your vampire face before, and I've never seen Dru's, and you're--you're confused! You're--you're confused, dammit! It didn't happen!" She was running her hands through her hair without realizing it, trying as hard as she could to remember that night--to remember his face or Dru's face. To remember anything except for a blur, a quick blur of some woman being knocked to the ground by her father.

He reached for her again, then thought better of it and stepped away. "I'm not confused. I know it happened. I remember it. I shoulda told you before. I just . . . I never thought about it."

Her hands went up and pressed against her eyelids, pressing on them until little bursts of colour exploded in the black, the pressure on her eyes mounting and tears leaked at the corners. "No. No, this isn't happening, it's a bad dream," she whined, clenching her jaw tightly.

She took in a few steady breaths, willing her memory to come back--willing for something, anything, so she could prove him wrong. He was wrong, something had spooked him into thinking it . . .

Except that she knew he wasn't wrong. He wasn't confused and he wasn't lying.

She removed her hands form her eyes and stared at him. He looked so vulnerable; so afraid. She went to speak, to say something, yell at him, anything, and she ended up letting out a pathetic whimper and sucked in a shuddering breath. She stood there, trying to calm herself, but then a short sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth to drown it out.

Still, he didn't touch her. She wanted him to grab her, pull her into his arms, and start soothing her, but she knew that if he did, she would beat the hell out of him.

"I have to go," she managed through sudden tears. "I'll . . . I'll be at the Bronze . . . C-can you drop by later? I . . . I need time to think . . ." she managed, taking large gulps of air and sobbing in between each word.

He finally reached forward reluctantly.

She bolted from Rupert's house, out into the harsh afternoon sun, and sobbed.

* * *

A/N--Whew, sorry about the long update! Thing is, not only do i have college to attend, but also, i work at Wendy's, which makes it kinda hard to update as regularly as i would like. Anyway, this chapter is a bit shorter than I wanted it to be. Sorry about that.


	28. Chapter 28

_Spike loved California. It reeked of carefree spirit and of youth. He'd been several times before, but it never got old. He'd been to thousands of towns, hundreds of countries, and there were some places that begged for a repeat performance. California was one of them._

"_Oooh, Spike, little bitty-bits are screaming," she crooned before nipping at his neck playfully._

_He growled and yanked her to him, her round breasts pressed up against his chest. The light blue shadowing around her eyes brought out the colour of her irises, and she chuckled, her red lips widening. "I like screaming," he grunted, then assaulted her mouth with his own._

_Her hands went up into his spiked hair, her fingernails playing with the strands, stroking them, petting them as if his head were a puppy. She pulled her mouth away from his, her hands still in his hair. "I can scream. I can scream until I'm hoarse and scream some more," she said, giggling._

_He put his hands on her hips, thrusting his arousal against her. She hummed pleasantly, her raven hair falling past her shoulders and glinting in the moonlight as he walked forward, forcing her to walk back. "Promises, promises."_

_She brought her fingers to his chest and stroked, her manicured nails clinking each time they hit a safety pin. "There will be much screaming tonight, my dear," she whispered huskily, her lilting accent making him hard with anticipation._

_She turned around and pressed her back against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her abdomen, putting his chin on her shoulder. They ambled down the street, with him nipping every now and then on her ear lobe. She chuckled every time he did that, and he growled in response._

_She began pointing at houses, and he felt a slow grin creep across his face. "Eeny . . . meeny . . . miny . . . moe." Her finger pointed at a house and she hummed. "That's where they scream, my pet."_

"_Then let's give 'em somethin' to scream about."_

_He pulled away form her and walked ahead, her hand still holding his. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled, then brought her to him, kissed her knuckles delicately, then walked up to the house, with Drusilla at his side._

_He knocked firmly on the door, and smiled politely when a pretty brunette answered the door. "Um, hello?" she greeted, looking at the both of them, her large, brown eyes sweeping over their attire. There was a girl standing beside her, holding a limp, felt doll in her arm. She looked very much like her mother._

"_Er, yeah, took a cab, an' I think I got the wrong address. Found myself on the wrong bloody street. Mind if I use your phone for a bit? Me an' my lady friend here are lost."_

_She looked at the both of them, then nodded. "Sure, come on in, I'll show you where it--"_

_Spike grabbed her throat and squeezed, watching her try to speak, only to have her mouth open and close futilely. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, luv." He threw her as easily as he would a rag doll, and she hit a wall. When she landed on the floor with a thump, he smirked. "Ever so nice to invite us in your home."_

_Dru's laugh sounded from behind him and when she joined him at his side, he reached behind him, grabbed the edge of the door, and slammed it shut. Drusilla grabbed the little girl, spun her around, and held her against her chest, one hand fisted in the child's hair while she cried out. Drusilla wrapped her arm around the girls' abdomen. "Hush now, li'l lamb. Soon it'll be beddy-bye." She licked up the child's cheek and chuckled._

"_Mom!" a little boy shouted from the living room, and he ran into the foyer. His mother was out cold, but by the tired moan she gave, Spike figured she would soon wake. The boy looked between his mother and Drusilla, who was holding the girl. "Karen!" He charged at Drusilla, but she let out a cruel laugh and kicked out, hitting him in the gut. He hit the ground a few feet away and slid across the floor._

"_Can I play with him?" Drusilla asked. "I want to hear the bitty-bit scream."_

_Spike smirked. "Course, luv." He felt his vampiric features burst forth as he stepped closer to the crying girl. "But first, I'm thinkin' I'm gonna need a snack. Care to share?"_

* * *

Kathryn was glad that Spike had shown her how to sneak into the back of the Bronze, because otherwise, having to pay admission would have made her day far worse. Sneaking in through the back and not having to pay? That was a good thing. Finding out her boyfriend had murdered her sister and mother and then tortured her brother, and his ex-girlfriend had been the one to mark her neck? Well . . . not so much.

She was angry. Oh, she was beyond angry. She was furious. She was sickened. She was depressed. She had so many emotions swelling inside her she thought she was going to explode. After the way her father and Kyle had been acting, she knew that they knew who Spike was. Unlike they last time they'd hidden something about Spike from her, she was angry at them this time.

Spike being a vampire and lying about it to her face, and them all allowing it to happen because it wasn't their business was fine. She didn't mind that. But knowing that Spike and Drusilla had been the ones to kill her mother and sister _was_ their business, and she was pissed all to hell because they hadn't told her.

She massaged her temples as she sat, trying to remember that night more vividly. It was more important to her now. She didn't know why she wanted to remember it more clearly when she knew what happened. It was pointless. But she did. She wanted to remember.

She was aware of the fact she'd told Spike to go to the Bronze later. She was aware of the fact she had practically invited him to come and bother her later. She was aware of the fact she had not broken up with him, as well. She needed to think. She needed to know what she wanted to do with the situation before she got herself into a situation she couldn't get out of.

She knew she was crying. She knew people were sending sympathetic looks her ways. A few people even approached her table, but when she raised her hand and shook her head, waving them off, they obliged. She didn't have money so she couldn't even order comfort food or a soda.

Still, the loud music of the Bronze blared around her. The noise helped. She supposed that most people would have found the quiet comforting, but not her--she'd wanted there to be thousands of people, dancing, ignoring her, the loud music blasting away, the beat pounding around her. Being depressed and then being alone always made her feel worse--having others around made the pain tolerable. She didn't mind people noticing her crying. It was when she was alone, and someone else showed up, that it bothered her. It was more personal then. Besides, in a place like the Bronze, where people came to party and dance and listen to music, nobody really paid attention to the ones who had no life. They were all too absorbed into their own lives to care, not that she blamed them. That's what she craved.

Perhaps if it had been something else, she would have gone to Kyle. She would have explained how she was feeling and had him talk her through it. She could have asked her father. But no--she wasn't going to go to them. She was just as angry with them as she was with Spike. Did they want her to find out like that? Or were they hoping she'd never figure it out?

Spike, the one who had done it, the one who should have been trying his hardest to hide it from her, had openly told her about it. Knowing what it could cost, knowing how she could react, he'd told her. Why? Why had he done that? She'd been perfectly fine without knowing! He'd told her, and he was the one person who would have made sense if he hadn't said a damn thing. It made no sense whatsoever why her family would keep it from her, and the one who was responsible would blurt it out.

Even if going to one of the Scoobies was an option, she wouldn't do it. First of all, she hadn't really gotten close to either of them, and second, she knew what would happen if she did. One of them--most likely Xander--would tell her he was right. She couldn't bear to see Xander or Buffy up on a high horse, mocking her, telling her that they'd been right all along. She was afraid of being mocked. Not only that, but she was afraid of what they would do to Spike if she told them. She didn't want Spike dead, and if she did, it wasn't their place to do it--it would have been hers.

It wasn't until the crowd started growing and the music started getting louder that she realized she had been there for hours. She had brushed off the waitress several times, and she didn't look too happy about the fact she hadn't ordered anything. Knowing that if more people were showing up it was nearing dusk, she wiped away her tears and looked around for a familiar bleached-blonde head.

She'd gone here to think, and to be honest, she wasn't any more certain of anything than she had been a few hours ago. Thankfully, it had been mid-afternoon by the time she'd stormed out, so she hadn't been waiting too long. Even if she was still confused, she had calmed down a bit. Sure, she was still crying, but at least she wasn't sobbing anymore.

She glanced up at the clock. Ten minutes after sundown. She had expected Spike to show up, apologizing profusely, or yelling at her, or taking her out back and getting into a huge sparring match with her, or something. Asking her to dance, sitting down with her to talk, or hoping he could make it all better with a kiss--which would not work and would end with his face being punched in, but she thought he might do it anyway.

It was fifteen minutes after dark, and he still hadn't shown up. It wasn't like Spike to avoid problems. Was it? She wasn't sure if she was worried, glad, or angry he hadn't shown up. She settled on angry. They were having a serious relationship issue and he was avoiding it! Was that a normal boyfriend thing to do? If it was, then men were stupid.

She burst into fresh tears when it was twenty minutes after sundown, and he still wasn't there. Now she was worried about him. She had told him to drop by later. She just needed time to think and calm down, and he wasn't there. Spike had never not shown up when she asked him to. Hell, he showed up when she didn't ask. What if he'd gotten into a fight? What if Buffy had found out and had staked him?

A half-hour past sundown, and she was still quietly sobbing into her palms. Maybe she didn't want him to show. Maybe she needed more time. Maybe seeing him tonight would be a bad idea. Maybe he knew that, and he _was_ avoiding her, but for her own good.

She was aware of the waitress standing by her table again, and she looked up, wiping her eyes. "I don't wanna order anything," she murmured, her voice still thick with tears.

"Someone ordered it for you," the waitress said, putting the glass of amber liquid on the table. She gestured at a man a few tables away. "He came in about twenty minutes ago. Hasn't taken his eyes off you."

Her heart leapt up in her throat, hoping that it was Spike, but when she looked, it was some other man with thick, black hair and a nice blue shirt. He smiled at her and she sighed. She _so_ didn't need this.

"Sure that's what you wanted, attention-seeking bitch . . ." the waitress mumbled as she walked away, obviously under the impression Kathryn couldn't hear her.

Kathryn very nearly chucked the glass at the back of the waitress's head, but resisted. If she had been an attention-seeking bitch, would she had brushed away every person who came her way? The loud noises calmed her. And besides, would the waitress have minded so much if the man who ordered the drink hadn't been so good-looking? If it had been an average Joe, she was sure the waitress would have been clucking her tongue and muttering about how she felt bad for Kathryn.

She looked back at the rather attractive man a few tables away from her, who smiled at her again. She didn't bother to smile back, just looked down at the glass. She studied it, making sure she didn't see any pills or bubbles and fizzes that shouldn't be there. The amber liquid was smooth, clear, and showed no disturbance to it. Besides, if he'd ordered it, she doubted the bartender would have put something in it for him. Still cautious, she picked it up and smelled it.

The tang was familiar. It washed over her. She realized she had smelled it on Spike once, and chuckled darkly. Everything reminded her of Spike. Even pink fluffy rabbits would, if only to remind her of how much unlike Spike they were.

She drank it, rolling it around on her tongue. She recognized it as the drink Spike had given her earlier--bourbon. That was what he'd called it. The smooth-yet-sharp taste of it travelled along her tongue, and she furrowed her eyebrows. It tasted like Spike's mouth.

She half-smiled at the thought of him. It really had been brave of him to tell her that, even though it was very possible she could have staked him in retaliation. She had gone from angry, hurt, depressed, worried, and moved on to thinking him admirable for it. She really need to get a grasp on her hormones before she went crazy with the constant switching.

She was in the middle of taking another drink, realizing she had set her glass of bourbon down without finishing it at Rupert's and wondering if Spike had finished it for her, when someone sidled into the chair across from her.

It was the man who had bought her his drink. He had a gorgeous tan, and large, green eyes that somehow sparkled. His hair was thick and black, and the blue shirt he wore was made of obviously expensive fabric. Something about the way he looked at her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She felt anxious suddenly. She couldn't explain why.

"Rough day?" he asked her, a small smile on his lips.

She blinked a few times. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really not in the mood to talk about it."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure? I'm a good listener."

"I'm sure," she told him, taking another drink of the bourbon, and wondering where Spike was. Maybe she should leave and go find him. Except she wasn't sure she'd had enough time to herself yet.

He sat there quietly, despite the fact she ignored him, and watched her drink. Almost as soon as the last drop slid down her throat, the waitress was at her table, a forced smile on her face. It wasn't until then she realized he'd motioned for her to come over.

"Another bourbon, please," he ordered, smiling flirtatiously at the waitress.

She nodded and left, grumbling again.

Kathryn frowned. "I didn't ask for one."

"You didn't ask for that one, either. You seemed to enjoy it."

Kathryn blinked a few times, then nodded. "Fine. But no more. I don't need a hangover to add to my problems."

"I'll see how you feel after this next one, and--"

"My mind won't change," she snapped, feeling a little guilty for taking her bad mood out on a guy who was clearly just trying to be nice.

An emotion flashed across his face, but it was so brief she couldn't place what it was. His lazy grin reappeared. "We'll see. Seems you've had your fair share of trouble for the day. A little self-indulgence never hurt anyone."

The waitress returned with the bourbon, and Kathryn took a sip. With each sip it tasted sweeter, although the bitter tang she loved still remained. She looked him over, a little confused. "Why'd you order the bourbon?"

"Why'd you drink it?"

"I had a bad day," she answered, taking another drink. She felt a warmth trickle down her spine. The emotions rampant in the back of her mind were still there, but a little dull.

"I just hate seeing a pretty girl cry," he told her, and she caught the seductive note in his voice.

Was she really that stupid? Had it really taken her that long to figure out he was hitting on her? She sighed. "I have a boyfriend," she told him.

"And he's not here, is he?"

She put the glass on the table and glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm the type of girl who--"

"There's nothing wrong with a little conversation, is there?" he said calmly. "He isn't one of those jealous types, is he? The kind that don't take kindly to their women talking to other men? Who don't let their women have a life outside of him?"

"And that's what you want? Conversation?" The cutting edge to her tone made it obvious she didn't believe him. His smile faltered, and she took another swig of her drink.

He blinked a few times, then with the grace of someone who was either extremely confident or was used to people snapping at him, he smiled and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "You didn't answer my question. Perhaps you need someone who is a little less . . . confining."

"My boyfriend is fine as is, thank you," she snapped, taking a longer drink this time. Anger was buzzing in the back of her head, but it wasn't targeted towards Spike this time.

"Which is why you're sitting alone, crying, I imagine." He spoke smoothly and surely. "What's your name?"

She looked him over. She wasn't sure she wanted him to know. She knew what he was doing. He was hitting on her, and she didn't like that at all. She had told him she had a boyfriend, and for some reason, he thought the fact that she wasn't currently with him meant it was okay for him to continue hitting on her. "What's yours?"

"It's Eric."

"Well, Eric, I think this conversation is over. Thanks for the bourbon." She raised her glass to him.

He narrowed his green eyes at her. "You know what I think?" His hand was gripping her wrist suddenly, his fingers biting into her flesh. "I think you're a cold-hearted tease."

"Let go of my wrist," she whispered threateningly.

He squeezed tighter and his upper lip curled into a snarl. "Where is he, Kathryn? Where's you precious boyfriend? Think he really gives a damn about you?"

She calmly sat the glass down on the table, then grabbed his wrist, twisting it off of hers. She heard it snap and he let out a cry, then a growl. She watched him jerk away from her, holding his injured wrist, his face sliding into a demonic visage. His hawk-yellow eyes pierced through her as he snarled.

"I think you just picked the wrong girl to--" She furrowed her eyebrows, remembering something. "Wait, I never told you my name."

He growled again. "This isn't over," he snapped, then bolted through the crowd.

Still confused, she sniffed her bourbon, smiled, then took a drink. The buzz in the back of her mind strengthened.

"That was entertaining," came Spike's voice from behind her.

She turned in her seat to glance at him, and the barrage of emotions came back. Her eyes started burning with tears suddenly, and she looked away. She took a long drink of the bourbon, the taste sparkling over her tongue. Her head felt heavy, like she was tired, except she wasn't altogether sleepy.

"I can leave," he murmured.

She shook her head. "No. Don't leave. Been waiting."

He walked over to the chair Eric had once occupied and sat down, brows furrowed. "You know, last time I saw him, he wasn't a vampire. Only a few days ago, too."

"You know him?"

"No. Cracked him one, though, 'cross the face. He was the bloke at the bar."

She hummed, searching her memory. She remembered the story about the girl Spike had waited with. "Douchebag Supreme?"

Spike's chuckles filled her with warmth and she smiled, the pain numbing a bit. "Yeah, not much different as a vampire, him. Knew you could take care o' yourself, though."

She nodded, then finished the bourbon with a flourish, setting it aside, next to her other empty glass. She stared at Spike. He was a little blurry, so she blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall.

He sighed. "Are you all right?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." He sighed and moved to leave, but she reached forward and grabbed his wrist. He looked down at her, confused. "Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice cracking.

He nodded, then slowly sat down, moving his hand so that it covered hers. It send tingles up her arm. It was odd to think that the man who was the reason she was crying in the first place was the same one to be holding her hand and comforting her.

"You have to understand, I had to tell you."

"I know."

His fingers slid in between hers. "And if you don't wanna continue this, I'll understand."

"I'm not breaking up with you."

His gaze changed. His normally hard features softened and a soft smile played on his lips. He looked so adorable then. She realized he'd probably been worried for hours, thinking over a thousand scenarios in his head, and none of them turned out like this.

"I'm still pissed off," she snapped.

"No, no, of course, I just--" He let out a sigh, then slowly let go of her hand. "I'd just understand if you didn't wanna be with me anymore."

She looked at her empty glass, sighing. "You make me happy. Just not right now." She put her finger on the rim of the glass and started circling it. "Did you always know, or . . . ?"

"No, not always. You want more bourbon?"

She shook her head. "I'm starting to feel it already." She realized how calm it was making her, how the pain was numb and from faraway. "Maybe later," she amended.

"Right. Well, I didn't even recognize you. But, er . . . Kyle did. He told me an' I . . . an' I tried to remember. After awhile, it came back to me, but I just . . . Well, I guess it just never occurred to me to tell you until . . . until today."

"Don't worry about it. You told me. Which is more than I can say for Dad and Kyle. I don't expect you to feel sorry about it, you're evil, but them . . ."

"But I do. I mean, not about killing them, but . . . for making you sad."

She looked at him. He was being honest. It hurt knowing that he didn't care about her mother and sister, but at the same time, she was glad that he wasn't going to sugar-coat anything for her. The fact he was sorry he'd upset her was something, though. Something she hadn't expected from a vampire without a soul.

"Well . . . It was Dru, right? The one who bit me?"

"Yeah. It was her."

She nodded, and for some reason, she felt extremely disappointed. And suddenly, a little worried. "I don't have a Claim, do I? I mean . . . I don't belong to her, right?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No. It's just a scar." He reached forward and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly in his. When their eyes met, he tilted his head to the side slightly. "Luv, if you need more time, I can do that. You don't have to be okay with this. You don't even have to talk to me."

"Spike . . . it's more than that. I knew--I _know_--you've done stuff. Horrible things. I was okay with that. I was perfectly fine with the fact you'd slaughtered hundreds--thousands--of people, and destroyed families. I didn't even care." More tears started streaming down her face. "But when it was my family?" Her voice broke and she let out a small sob.

"Kathryn . . ."

She pulled her hand out of his and covered her eyes, sniffling into her palms. "What does that say about me? I only care when it happens to me? I'm totally cool with it, as long as it's _them?"_

Saying it out loud made her realize just what had been bothering her most of all. She angry at what Spike had done, obviously, and upset that her family had lied to her, but the fact that she hadn't cared about it until it had happened to her . . . It was like having her guts ripped out.

What kind of person was she if she could easily overlook horrible things that happened to people, accept it with a shrug and kiss the man who did it, but think it wrong, or even worse, when it involved her? Did that make her a bad person?

She felt arms around her suddenly and she glanced up to see Spike had left his seat and was pulling her into his chest. She buried her face in his shirt and started sobbing. Her mother and her sister were dead because of him, and she was allowing him to touch her. The fact that his scent, his arms, just him in general, made her feel better sickened her. She was beyond the point of knowing if she was angry with herself or with him.

"You killed them!" she shouted into his chest, her voice muffled because of her tears and because it was against his chest. The loud, blaring music was suddenly too much--it was inside her, beating inside of her body. She hated it. She hated him. She hated herself. "I hate you! You ruined my life! I hate you!"

He seemed to be perfectly okay with the fact she was pounding her fists into his chest, despite the fact her face was pressed against it as well. He barely stumbled while she screamed into his shirt, hitting him. She was vaguely aware of the fact he was leading her away while she yelled at him. She was aware of the fact that she was more clutching onto his shirt and crying than she was hitting him, although she did manage a weak punch that was more of a slap every now and then.

She walked with him, ignoring the fact he was whispering soothing words in her ear, even though she was responding each time with saying she hated him or giving him a half-hearted hit.

It wasn't until she felt the cool air and heard the music fade that she realized Spike had taken her to the back alley.

"People were looking." She felt him kiss the top of her head. "You're not a bad person, luv," he murmured into her hair, wrapping his arms around her tighter. "And you weren't okay with it. You didn't talk to me for weeks, remember?"

She choked on her sobs, clutching onto his shirt so tightly she worried that she would tear it. "I wanna hate you," she cried pathetically.

"Well, you go right ahead."

She didn't hate him, though. She wrapped her arms around him and cried, and allowed him to hold her. She hated herself, and why should she take that out on him?

* * *

A/N--Thank you so much for your reviews. Reviews are my life force, poppets. Also, the flashback takes place thirteen years ago (1987, seeing as this fic takes place in 2000) for those of you who like to scribble dates and stuff down. The reason I didn't put the year down, or thirteen years earlier, is because nobody was technically "having" a flashback. So instead I put it in italics, to let you all know it was a different time of the story. Buffy Sparrow does something similar in one of her stories (Love After Death) and it fits and flows smoothly, so I decided to try it.


	29. Chapter 29

Seeing as she hadn't rammed a stake into his chest, things were going a lot better than Spike had planned them to. He'd even considered not showing up at all, despite the fact she'd managed to tell him to before she bolted. Thankfully, nobody had returned or come bursting in to see him pacing constantly. He would have hated to explain what was going on to any of the Scoobs.

Sundown had only been a few hours away when she left, and honestly, he doubted that would give her enough time to think. But he left (a little later than he could have) simply to humour her.

Now she was sitting in on Giles' couch, a glass of bourbon in her hand, drinking it quietly and slowly. Yes, it had gone much better than he thought it would. Her eyes were swollen and red, moisture ran down her cheeks, and she took in a shuddering breath every now and then, but they were both alive, so Spike couldn't help but feel a small amount of hope. None of the scenarios in his head had played out very well. The ones that didn't involve her staking him had ended up with her doing something stupid to ease the pain and getting herself killed.

"Did she . . . I mean, my sister . . . you both ate her?" she asked finally, her croaking voice shattering the silence.

He blanched. He'd made it this far, he figured he might as well be honest. "Yeah. We took care of her first." She nodded slowly, her brown eyes still focusing on the coffee table. Spike was antsy--he wanted to get up and move, or go over and comfort her, but he figured that sitting still in Giles' chair was probably best, so he shifted in his seat.

"So . . . Half with Dru, then she handed her to you, or . . . ?"

Why the hell was she asking? "I'm thinkin' maybe curiosity is what killed the cat, luv."

"No, you and Dru killed the cat," she snarled.

He sighed. "Yeah, deserved that. Okay."

He shifted again. He closed his eyes, trying to remember that night. It came back to him a bit easier than he had expected, but seeing as he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, it didn't really surprise him. Normally he wouldn't have such a hard time recounting a particularly violent story, but then again, normally he wouldn't be doing it to a survivor--one that he cared for.

"I picked her up and held her between us. I bit into one side, Dru came up from behind her, wrapped her arms around me so your sis was pressed between us, and bit into the other." Kathryn nodded to herself. Spike sighed. "She had your eyes."

"We both had Mom's eyes. How did Mom . . . I mean, Kyle told me once that she . . . um, you weren't . . ."

"We tortured her, yeah. Dru wanted to play with Kyle. That means she wanted to make his life hell. Make him suffer the most. An' nothin' hurts more than watchin' someone you love die, except maybe watchin' them get tortured first. She learned from the best." When Kathryn gave him a strange look, he figured she was confused. "Angelus."

She nodded. "Oh. Right. How long . . . I mean . . . didn't the neighbours call the police?"

"It wasn't short, but it wasn't exactly hours, either. Broke a few of her bones while I held him still. We weren't there longer than fifteen minutes. We knew it wouldn't take long for the bobbies to get there. It's not like we hadn't had practice."

"Then you killed Mom and . . . started on Kyle."

"Yeah. Dru got a bit carried away with him. You're a heavy sleeper, you know?" he added, remembering how long it had been before she had tottered out.

She scoffed lightly. "I _was_ a heavy sleeper. _Was."_

Well, that made sense. "Oh. Well . . . You came out, we saw you . . . Dru muttered something, can't remember . . . Something about blundering in, and she just ran at you. She bit into you just as your dad burst in. I laughed, an' he knocked Dru to the ground, but that's when I heard the sirens, so I grabbed her an' left. She was disappointed, wanted to keep playing, but I don't really like getting shot, so I bolted."

"You kissed her. When you left."

He furrowed his eyebrows, remembering that vividly, remembering the taste of Kathryn on Drusilla's mouth. He remembered thinking something about her blood was different, but hadn't paid much attention to it seeing as they were more focused on getting away from the police. "Yeah, I did--how'd you know?"

"I don't know. I think I saw it." She shrugged, then took another drink.

"You don't have to stay here, you know. I can take you home. Or you can call your brother. Or walk. Whichever you prefer."

Her eyes finally moved from the coffee table and met his. "I prefer to stay here. You told me. _They_ didn't."

Spike found some logic in that, so he said nothing. He just watched her slouch and sway ever so slightly. She wasn't drunk enough to lose her inhibitions and stumble about, but he could tell that her eerie state of calm was due to the alcohol. Her words were slurring together and her head kept lolling back and forth, like it was too heavy for her shoulders.

"You can't ever tell them," she said, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "Buffy, Xander, Willow . . . Giles. They never know. Promise me."

Spike wondered why she cared so much, but he nodded. It wasn't like he wanted to blurt it out to them--it wasn't their business. "I promise."

* * *

Wherever she was at, it was warm. And comfy. She knew she wasn't home because she remembered vehemently telling Spike she would beat his ass if he suggested it one more time. But it wasn't the couch, which she fully remembered falling asleep on. It was a bed. A nice, warm, fluffy bed.

Maybe he had brought her home after she fell asleep. If that were the case, then she would be very angry.

She slowly sat up, expecting there to be a horrible pain in her head, or a churning feeling in her stomach, but there was nothing except a slight stuffy feeling in her head. Apparently, her hangovers consisted of a slightly drowsy, heavy feeling. Nothing like the horrible pain her brother had described, or the huge amounts of vomit expelling form his stomach he had complained about. She wondered if she had taken after her father, who only rarely got headaches, and usually only if he drank "bitch beer" which didn't really worry Kathryn at all seeing as she didn't like _any _beer.

When she looked around the room, she realized she didn't recognize it and a surge of panic filled her. Where the hell was she?

She hopped off of the bed, thinking over the events of last night. She remembered crying and weakly pounding her fists against Spike, hating him but not nearly as much as she hated herself for not caring about any of his misdeeds until it affected her. Her remembered he telling her a thousand times that she had done nothing wrong, that people are surrounded by death everywhere--whether it be a neighbour they couldn't give a crap about, or those starving children in Africa, or children who go missing--and they don't care until it involves them. He said that unlike them, she had cared--she had avoided him and pondered and worried and cared about all of those he had killed for weeks. She remembered him mostly convincing how normal she was, how perfectly fine she was, and most of all, how not evil she was, and that he, and he alone, deserved to be hated. She could even remember him telling her how he killed her sister and mother, even though by that point everything was blurry and choppy, like a dream she was slowly forgetting.

She padded across the room, realizing that she was barefoot. She hadn't fallen asleep barefoot.

When she opened the door, she found a staircase in front of her, one that twisted a bit. She recognized it, but only from a different angle. Spike must have taken her to Giles' room after she fell asleep. She smiled at the thought of him carrying her up to the room and taking off her shoes before tucking her in.

She saw him in the kitchen, but his back was facing her. He was standing in front of the microwave, waiting for it to finish whatever it was he was cooking.

She walked down the stairs, smiling. Something about seeing Spike in the kitchen, waiting for something to stop warming in the microwave, seemed very adorable to her. Just like seeing him with his hair messy and wet had.

When she made it into the living room the microwave beeped. He pulled out a yellow mug and took a drink, turning to leave. When he lowered the mug and his eyes met hers she realized what he was drinking--blood.

His face was bumpy and his eyes were a sharp yellow. Blood smeared over the top of his mouth, which was in a small O. He looked stunned to see her, but she figured it was all right seeing as she was stunned to see him drinking blood. Which was stupid, really. He needed to drink it sometime. And he couldn't always get it from her.

"Oh," she murmured, then felt dumb a second later. She realized she was standing in front of him, so she stepped aside, allowing him to walk past and go into the living room. She followed him, wondering if her hair looked messy, then realizing it probably wasn't normal to wonder that after walking in on her boyfriend drinking blood from a mug. Then again, it wasn't normal for her boyfriend to be a vampire.

"So uh . . . sleep well?" he asked when he stood by the coffee table. She could hear the strain in his voice, and knew that he was asking more than just how she'd slept.

She nodded. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He grinned, which looked extremely odd considering he had fangs in his mouth. "That's good, then." He took another drink of his blood.

She furrowed her brows, and hoped he wouldn't mind if she asked him a stupid question. "Do you like blood?"

Wow. It sounded much dumber out loud than it had in her head, and that was certainly saying something.

She imagined he would have raised his eyebrow at her except that was probably impossible with his face demonic-looking, so he blinked slowly. "Er . . . yeah."

"I meant, um . . . Like, I've tasted blood before, and I didn't like it then. It tastes . . . well, not very good. Does it suddenly taste different when you turn into a vampire, or do you just . . . _acquire_ the taste? Dad says beer is an _acquired_ taste. Is blood like that?"

Spike shrugged. "Never really thought about it. Guess when you turn into a vampire, you just like it. Course, some tastes better than others . . . this here is pig's blood. Better than orangutan, but not as good as otter. Course, human blood is best, but even then certain types of human blood tastes better. Virgins, typically, young children. Slayers, of course, are the top. But you can imagine how rare that is to come by."

She nodded, glad he hadn't laughed at her for being so stupid. She reached forward before she could stop herself, then hesitated before her finger made it to the cup. He was looking at her, and she retracted her hand, feeling stupid. But now that the thought had entered her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about it. "Can I, um . . . have a little taste?"

He blinked at her again. "What?"

"Never mind, that was stupid, I was just--" She was just being curious. Stupidly curious. Her dad always told her that her curiosity would get her in trouble. She wasn't in trouble, but now she felt like an idiot, and told herself she would stop being curious that instant, despite the fact she had told herself that a thousand times before. "Never mind."

"I don't mind, it was just weird, is all. Here." He moved the mug closer to her, as if he was going to hand it to her. "Remember, it _is_ pig's blood, so don't worry. Not that you'd taste the difference."

"I think I'd feel more comfortable with human blood, to be honest," she muttered, then reached forward and dipped her finger in it, feeling how warm it was. She pulled it out, watching the dark red juice drip down the side of her finger.

She swallowed nervously, and went for it.

She stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked it off. It was better than she'd thought it would be, but not as good as she hoped. It tasted coppery and dry, even though it was wet. She pulled her finger out, then shrugged. "Um, it tasted just like my blood."

"Yeah, well, you're human, it's not like you've got refined blood-tasting." He shrugged.

She stood there awkwardly for a moment. Now that she had asked two questions, it seemed that her mind wouldn't stop supplying her with more. She had wondered them all before, but never when he was around. The opportunity had presented itself the moment he'd drank out of the cup with his face vamped out, and now she couldn't stop herself.

"Do you have to be vamped out every time you drink blood?"

"No, not really. Just feels more primal, you know?" He blinked a few times. "Oh, oh, sorry, did you want me to--"

"No, I don't mind, I was just curious."

"Well, that's you all right--bloody curious. Anything else you wanna know?"

She stepped closer, peering at his face. She remembered thinking all sorts of things about it the first time she'd seen it, when he'd drank her blood from her arm, and she realized that it hadn't been long ago at all. She remembered wondering if it felt different from his normal face and how he had switched back into his human face just as she touched it.

"Can I . . . ?" she asked hesitantly, reaching forward slowly.

He nodded, then looked around. His eyes settled on the coffee table, and he quickly put his mug on it. He stood closer to her and smiled briefly. "Go right ahead," he invited, spreading his arms for a second.

She pressed her fingers against his eyebrows, feeling the lengthened scar along his skin. She pressed down on it, sliding her fingers over the skin. It felt tighter, somehow. Harder. She ran her fingers along the ridges between his eyebrows, then ran them down his nose. It felt different, but similar. She was glad he didn't mind, especially when she started touching his cheekbones. They were sharper and the skin was tougher.

Underneath his cheekbones, the skin hadn't changed. It felt as smooth as ever. Apparently, the demon inside only occupied the top half of his face. When her fingers inched towards his mouth, he moved his head and bit the tips of her fingers, but gently. His eyes were fixed on hers, as if expecting her to pull away, but when she didn't, he chuckled.

His mouth was on hers suddenly. She gasped at the suddenness of it, and he used that moment to press his tongue into her mouth. She responded, the kiss slow, but heat still spread through her body like fire. His hands were burning her, but in a good way. They danced across her back, pulling her closer to him, as if she could never be close enough, even though they were touching.

She pulled away and pressed her forehead against his, her hands running up and down his chest. "Your mouth tastes like copper," she told him.

"My mouth tastes like _blood,"_ he corrected.

She hummed a little. "Blood tastes like copper, then."

She kissed him this time, slipping her tongue into his mouth, realizing that blood really didn't taste all that bad when it was mixed with him. Nicotine, smoke, bourbon, and blood--it was all a part of how he tasted, and she liked it. She could get addicted to kissing him. She could get addicted to feeling the inside of his mouth with her tongue, and having him moan against her, his chest pressed against her body, and his hands roaming over her back.

It could have been hours or seconds later when they pulled apart next--Kathryn had no idea. However, when he pulled away she felt like it was too soon.

* * *

Spike honestly had no idea how he'd gotten so lucky. Someone upstairs must have really liked him. The fact he was dating a girl so curious, so full of life, who just happened to be a slayer, was really working out for him. Sure, the slayer bit made him wary at times, and when they were snogging he sometimes had to battle with his demon, but all was good.

The past few weeks with Kathryn had been brilliant. She went to school, trained with Giles every Tuesday and Friday, and every night she went patrolling with him. Often he would take her to the Bronze for a bit of dancing and conversation. Snogging was an interesting part of their relationship as well. Spike had never been in a relationship that didn't involve sex, and as irritating as that was at times, he found himself confused at how much he was okay with her wanting to wait.

He really did care for her. The fact he found himself falling for someone other than Drusilla was scary enough, but the fact he was willing to go into a relationship without sex was even scarier.

Hell, he even liked her family. Kyle was still brusque towards him, not that he expected anything different, but Stan seemed to like him. There were moments when it would get awkward between them, and Stan would stare at him with a murderous rage in his eyes, but when the second passed, everything went on like nothing had ever happened between them. Like Spike wasn't a monster.

"You know what I like?" Kathryn said as they walked through the cemetery, holding hands.

"What's that, ducks?"

"Bourbon."

"I noticed." Even though she never got drunk, she often had a glass of bourbon with him when at the Bronze.

"It reminds me of you."

He smirked and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. "Does it now?" He reached forward and grabbed her other hand, and kissed those knuckles as well. He kept his eyes on hers, making sure not to drop her gaze. "You know what _I _like?" he asked, guiding both of her hands to his shoulders, and she slid them behind his neck, she that she was wrapped around him. He stepped closer, so that his chest was only a few inches from hers, and he rested his hands on her hips.

She smiled at him. "What's that?"

"This." He leaned forward and bit the side of her neck. She made that cute, tiny little moaning noise that he was sure she wasn't aware she was making, and he suckled the flesh there, scraping his blunt teeth across her skin.

He kissed up her neck until he secured his mouth over hers, and she responded eagerly. Her kisses were exploratory--like she was mapping his body, as if she had to memorize every detail of him mouth, or his skin, or his body. Every time was like she had never done it before, despite the fact they snogged quite often.

That's what he liked about her. She was so bloody curious. After the initial shock of what he was and what he had done to her in the past, she eventually started asking him to tell her stories. "Tell me about the first person you killed," she'd asked only a three weeks ago. And he told her, without worry of being judged.

He knew that the Scoobies didn't understand what she saw in him or what he saw in her. The Whelp certainly didn't get it--in fact, he was the most against it. He would put up with his snide comments, and ignore the fact Buffy often let them slide. Only when Xander got entirely out of hand and said something that made Kathryn look as if she'd been smacked did Buffy ever step in. Willow, on the other hand, supported them. She often went on about how cute it was, that they were willing to look past their differences and the unconventional nature of it all. Anya didn't seem to particularly care either way, and once offered to teach Kathryn all about sex, so that she would know what she was doing their first time. Despite the fact the Scoobies blushed, Kathryn had been grateful for the offer, and promised that if she had any questions, Anya would be the first to know.

He pulled away from her so she could breathe, and she smiled happily at him. "I like that, too."

"Well, I'm glad."

"Spike? Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, tucking away an errant curl behind her ear. "What, luv?"

"Well . . . it's April, you know. And, um . . . next month . . ." She bit her lip suddenly, then looked down hastily.

He took a step away from her and held her at arms' length. He ducked his head to try and look her in the eyes. "Is May?" he finished for her tentatively. "Luv, I know you graduate. I'd love to be there, but I can't. It's midday."

She looked up at him and smiled. "No, no, it's not that . . . um . . . well, we're having a prom."

"You're . . . you're asking me to prom?" he asked, astonished.

She laughed nervously then pulled away. "You know what? Never mind, it's stupid. Just a . . . stupid dance. Forget I said anything."

"No, it's not." He grabbed her face and brought her mouth to his in a fleeting kiss. He pulled away and brushed her hair from her face. "It's not, luv. I'll go. You're really askin' me to prom?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's just . . . I mean, I know, it's just a stupid dance with formal clothes, and we've only been dating since the beginning of March, but I thought . . . Well, I thought it would be nice to go with you. I can't picture going with anyone else."

He kissed her again, and he couldn't describe the emotion filling his chest. In all of his years, he'd never been asked to a prom. Why would he? Drusilla wasn't in high school, and he'd never dated a human before. It made sense, though--they had known each other since January, and ever since he laid eyes on her, he knew she was special . . . He loved being near her, she made him feel like a man--not like a freak. He tried to tell her that in his kiss, tried to tell her how important it was to him, how important a silly little dance was, and how much he wanted to be with her, to hold her, to dance with her at a high school function he thought he'd never see, but he doubted one kiss could get her to understand that--he didn't even get it himself.

Were he human, he would have been breathless by the time he pulled away, and it seemed like she was. She had a punch-drunk smile on her face. Her delicate hands were threading through his hair, and she was staring up at him like he was the most amazing thing on the planet. The way Drusilla used to stare at Angelus.

Drusilla had never stared at him like that.

And Kathryn was. For the first time in his life, he was being stared at like he was _better_ than the pouf.

"I think I'm falling for you, Spike," she whispered.

He kissed her again, the tug in his chest somewhat aching, but not in a bad way. She tasted like sunshine and humanity and toothpaste and fire and so many different things he could never name them all. She just tasted of Kathryn--no other way of putting it. And she was gasping into his mouth, and his hands were sliding up and down her sides, and she would giggle when he ran over the soft flesh just underneath her ribs.

He slowly backed her up against a mausoleum, pressing his body firmly against hers. She was warm and soft and willing. Her heart beat soundly, thrumming through him like his own. Kissing a slayer shouldn't have been so good. But it was--it was everything. She was everything he never got to have as William. She was everything Spike wanted and needed.

She accepted him. She didn't just forget he was a vampire; she didn't just brush aside the fact he was evil like the homework she told herself she'd do later. She wasn't procrastinating--she knew what he was, and she accepted it.

She would never compare him to Angelus. She would never want him to change. She would never stare at him with a faraway look on her face and see Angelus in her mind's eye.

"Spike . . ." she moaned against his mouth.

"Kathryn," he growled, pressing against her harder, so she was sandwiched between him and the crypt.

"Vomit," came an unwanted voice.

Spike pulled away from Kathryn and turned to look at Buffy. "Bad timing, Summers."

"You're telling me. So not in the mood to interrupt the big make-out fest. Slayer, she who hangs out in cemeteries. Kinda an issue when there's two. Maybe we should do some sort of schedule? We could cover more ground that way."

Kathryn stood away from the mausoleum and brushed herself off. "Yeah, that might be best."

"So . . . uh, celebratory kissage or just run-o'-the-mill kissage? Particularly nasty vamp you dusted?"

"No, um . . . we're going to prom," Kathryn told her.

Buffy's face fell. Spike wanted to kill her for the expression she shot his way. "Prom? You're going to go to prom with her?"

"Well, yeah. She asked me. What am I gonna do? Hightail it in the opposite direction?"

Buffy blinked. Spike thought she looked like she had been smacked. "Oh. Well, no, of course you're going. It's just . . . Well, good for you." She smiled wanly, then sort of wandered away awkwardly.

Spike and Kathryn looked at each other, and both shrugged.


	30. Chapter 30

Kathryn sat on the couch with Spike, whose arm was around her. "You're going to prom? Both of you?" her dad asked rather loudly.

"Well, no, I was gonna go stag, even though he's my boyfriend," Kathryn drawled. She heard Spike choke back a snicker and she couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Yes, we're going to prom. I've already bought the tickets with my allowance. They give you two no matter what. They were twenty bucks, Dad, I'm not gonna waste them by sitting at home."

"Well, no, of course not, but--but honey, he's a _vampire."_

She felt Spike's grip around her shoulder tighten and she sighed. "I thought we were over this, Dad. Yes, he's a vampire, and yes he . . . he did stuff . . ." They both looked away when she said that, knowing she was referring to the fact he helped kill her mother and sister. They'd gotten into a huge fight the night she came home and demanded to know why he hadn't told her. Surprisingly, he didn't want to ruin their relationship, so she didn't know why he cared about it suddenly. She could understand Kyle not liking it, but her father? "But I still wanna go to prom with him. We're dating, Dad. You even . . . kept stuff from me so that we could be dating. Remember?"

"What? No, honey, it's not about that. He's a vampire. As in, jobless. I'm not even sure I can afford buying you a dress, let alone a tux."

"Whoa, whoa, wait. Mate, you think I don't have a tux? I've been alive more than a century. Course I have a tux."

For some reason Kathryn was stunned that he already had one, but it really did make sense. He had been a vampire for more than a century, dated Drusilla for just as long, and she thought he wouldn't have a tux? She imagined he'd gone to fancy balls and dances for every decade.

"Oh. Well . . . I just thought, 'cause you're always wearing the same clothes . . ."

"I have _similar_ clothes, not _same_ clothes."

Her father blinked, then clapped his hands together. "Well, all right then. Guess that's settled. Still a little worried about your dress, honey, but I'm sure we'll manage. Care for a beer, Spike?"

"Yeah, all right."

Her father left the living room with a grin plastered on his face. When he was in the kitchen, she heard her father say something about his little girl going to prom, and she shared a look with Spike, who sniggered.

"Prom, huh?"

Kathryn looked at Kyle, who had been uncharacteristically silent ever since she had announced they were going to prom. Even though Kyle trusted Spike and often told her he was glad they were together, he had never really taken a liking to him.

Kathryn nodded. "Yeah."

He shifted in his seat. "So, uh . . . The whole nine yards?"

"Bit out o' the loop, mate. Never had a prom. What's that imply? Just like any other formal occasion, right? Sipping wine--well, punch--walking around pretendin' to be interested in boring anecdotes . . . That sort o' thing, yeah?"

"Nope. Think high school dance, like the Bronze, only with fancy dresses."

His smirk was positively sinful. "Think I like it already."

"I meant, you know, corsages, boutonnières, matching colours . . . limos . . . you know, cliché prom stuff."

"Don't want a limo," Kathryn stated firmly. Really, she didn't.

"How 'bout a Desoto? Got one o' them. Windows are blacked out, though."

Kathryn felt a little wary about showing up to prom in a car with blacked out windows. She didn't know what a Desoto looked like. When she saw his expectant face, eyes wide, she knew it meant a lot to him. Even if the windows were painted black, she figured it wasn't anyone's business why, and that no one would come to a conclusion that a vampire drove it. After all, not very many people knew vampires were real. She smiled. "Sure."

"What colour will your dress be? You know Spike has to match it, so . . ."

She looked at Spike, waiting for him to give her an idea, but he just smiled. Her favourite colour was soft yellow, but when she saw the red shirt he was wearing over his black tee and under his leather duster, she remembered how she had looked in it. She remembered how it complimented her complexion. She remembered Kenny staring at her, and then she briefly wondered why Kenny hadn't been in class for weeks. Red really did look good on her, so she shrugged. "I'm thinking red."

"Red?" Spike repeated, then briefly pressed his forehead to hers. She blushed and looked back at Kyle, who looked confused, as if they'd gone off on a in-joke. "Oh, she looks good in red."

"I imagine you'd think so," he muttered dryly, and Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. What was with the tone? "Red, like blood?"

Spike tightened his arm around her shoulder and she glanced at him, noticing how stiff he was. Kathryn had never made the connection. Judging by the shocked look on Spike's face, he'd never made the connection either.

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but that was when her dad walked in. He popped open a bottle of beer and laughed when the foam spilled over the edge. "Don't drink the foam, it'll make you puke," her dad told Spike as he handed it over.

Spike just nodded and murmured something that sounded like an agreement, and avoided her gaze when she tried to look at him.

* * *

Kathryn waited for the bell to ring, and took her time putting her things away when everyone else charged out of the classroom. When she was alone with her history teacher, she slowly approached his desk. He looked at her warily. "Is everything all right, Miss Daltry?"

She winced. She hated it when people called her that for some unknown reason. "Um . . . I was just wondering . . . Have you heard anything about Kenny?"

"You're worried about his, um, lack of attendance, I take it."

"Well . . . Yeah, kinda. I mean, we sort of . . . had a little, um . . . argument, then he stopped showing up."

"Ah. Well, don't worry, Kathryn. Kenny has the uncanny ability to disappear during most of the term and magically reappear the last two weeks or so and turn in a lot of makeup work. It's amazing, the stories he comes up with. His maternal grandmother has died twice. And once, he was mugged and needed seven weeks to cope. Just last term he was kidnapped and held hostage in France. He miraculously escaped unscathed."

Kathryn laughed. "Oh, okay. It's just . . . Well you never know, in this town. Disappearances, and all that. You know, unexplained ones."

"And coming from LA, you must be completely inexperienced with anything tragic." For some reason, that sounded almost like an insult. "Huh. That came off as catty. Anyway, bit busy, you know. I'd love to keep talking, but I've got essays to correct."

She nodded slowly, then turned around and started to leave the classroom. She only made it halfway to the door when he stopped her. "Kathryn . . ." She turned back to look at him. She could see the worry etched on his face. "It's not my intention or business to pry, but . . . You don't want to waste your time getting mixed up with people like Kenny. Never tell anybody I said this, but . . . there are some people better off not attending, do you understand?"

"We're not together, sir. In fact, that's sorta why we argued."

"Ah, good. That's good. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."

"Don't worry. You haven't. I appreciate it."

He nodded and smiled at her, but she thought he a little sad. "You remind me of my daughter sometimes."

"Oh, yeah?" She smiled.

"Gwen would have liked you," he murmured, looking down at the essays. "Still, best not to muse about what may have been."

She felt like someone had grabbed her heart and tugged it out of her chest. "Oh . . . I'm sorry."

"Never you mind that. Have a good day, Miss Daltry."

She nodded. "I'll see you later, Mister Paulson."

* * *

"Where exactly are we going?" Kathryn asked him.

"Caves I stayed in for a bit when I first got back here. Hopefully, Harmony still isn't occupying the place." He shuddered at the thought of Harmony dressing the cave up in unicorns and glitter. He hadn't been able to return often so he wasn't sure if she was there or not. He'd gone back a few weeks ago just to grab a few pairs of clothes because he needed to change, and Giles was bloody stingy when it came to laundry. Like it would kill him to do the laundry for Spike while he was chained to a tub. Now Spike had to do his own laundry. Giles could be a right bastard when he wanted to be.

"Harmony?"

He glanced at Kathryn and realized he'd never told her about Harmony. Well, it wasn't surprising, really. Harmony hadn't really been anything more to him than a great shag. When it came to sex, he wasn't picky, but when it came to a relationship, he preferred his women to have something between their ears--insane or otherwise.

"Some bird I shagged a few times," he mumbled in an offhand way.

"Oh." He glanced at her and noticed she was blushing extensively. "I just . . . I guess I should have realized you would have had sex with more than just Drusilla."

"Never when I was with her. I loved Dru. This was after she left me."

"Oh. Oh okay." She reached forward and grabbed his hand, and she was smiling again.

For some reason she was content with that answer. He shrugged and entwined their fingers together. "Doesn't bug you I've shagged her senseless?"

"No. Come on, Spike, you're over a hundred years old. Of course you've had sex. I just . . . I guess I just thought it was only you and Dru. You know, with the sex."

"You know I didn't love Harmony, right? It was just meaningless sex, s'all." He winced after the words left his mouth. He was certain girls didn't like to hear about meaningless sex from their boyfriends.

"Yeah, I know. Really, I don't mind. You killed my mom and sister, and you think I'm going to care about that?" Well, there was that. Spike figured that on the grand scale of things, there probably wasn't much he could do to top that. "That why you've been in a weird mood lately? 'Cause you thought I was jealous of Harmony?"

"I haven't been weird."

"Yeah you have. Ever since last night. Honestly, I'm not gonna get jealous of some girl you've never even talked about. I mean, jealous of Dru, maybe . . . Okay, definitely jealous of her. But not of Harmony."

"You're jealous of Dru?" he asked, and oddly, it was one of the sweetest things he'd ever heard.

She looked at him, and Spike couldn't tell if she was amused or if she was staring at him like he was stupid. Maybe both. He hoped for amused. "Well, yeah. Dru? She's so pretty. And she was with you for a hundred and . . . some years."

"A hundred and twenty, and you're beautiful."

Her smile lit up her face and she blushed heavily, then stepped even closer to him than she was and looked down. He bent down and kissed her on the lips quickly, then continued stalking towards the cave.

"So why were you acting weird? Is it because of what Kyle said yesterday?"

Spike remembered the sting he'd felt at Kyle's barb, and looked away. Apparently it had been bothering him more than he thought, if Kathryn thought he was acting weird. The thing of it was, Spike hadn't even made the connection between red and blood. Sure, he knew that red was the colour of blood, but the fact that seeing red on her might have reminded him of blood, and that was the whole reason he liked it on her bothered him. Is that all Kyle thought their relationship was? Spike just biding his time until the chip was out? Spike passing the time until he could kill Kathryn? More importantly, was Kyle right? Spike knew what he felt, didn't he? He really cared for Kathryn. Right?

"I look good in red. I do. Really. It's not just you that thinks that."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I happen to agree." Spike groaned. "Do you want to kill me?"

"No," he answered.

"There you go then. It doesn't matter what Kyle thinks."

"Yeah, but--"

"Do you wanna kill Buffy? I'm not asking if you hate her--we've had that discussion--but would you kill her?"

What did that have to do with anything? "Well, yeah. Evil, remember?"

She stopped walking and held his other hand. She was looking down at the ground shyly, and he wondered if he'd said something to offend her. Surely she wasn't upset about him wanting to kill Buffy? Even if he had admitted to Kathryn the only reason he really hated Buffy was because they were mortal enemies, the fact was, he still would kill her. He had no concern for that bitch at all. He hadn't fought her for two years because he wanted to drink coffee with her and make nice.

She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. "You know, I'm not really into girls, but Buffy's kinda hot."

Spike blinked. "What?"

"I mean . . . even though it was just a spell . . . She was all over you. You guys were gonna get married." She bit her lip. "You _loved_ each other. And . . . And okay, I'm a bit jealous of her, too."

"Don't need to be, luv. Far as I'm concerned, that was a horrible, nasty experience that I _never_ want to relive." Then he smirked. "But you really think she's hot?" That opened up a door to a whole mess of fantasies he hadn't ever even thought of. Two slayers at once--that must be bloody fantastic. Not that he thought about Buffy that way, but hell, a threesome was a threesome.

"Yeah. I mean, from an objective point of view . . . What about you? I mean, you've never looked? I'm a girl, and I've looked . . ."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. Something was off. Kathryn was being different. Before Spike could really piece together what was going on, she leaned up and began kissing his neck. He groaned and felt his pants tighten uncomfortably. Where was he? Oh, right.

"Hmm, yeah, Summers . . . she's hot, yeah . . ." he murmured, before turning his head and capturing her mouth with his.

She laughed and pulled away from him. "So . . . What colour do you think she looks best in?" When he furrowed his eyebrows, she kissed him again.

"Prob'ly . . ." He thought. He'd never really noticed. It was hard to think with Kathryn pressing light kisses along his neck. She ran her hand across his abdomen and nipped gently at his collarbone. Thinking of Buffy in her various bits of clothing he'd seen her wear over the years wasn't exactly easy with his girlfriend kissing him and running her fingers along his chest . . . What had gotten into her? "Er . . . Brown," he answered finally, remembering seeing her in something a rich, chocolate brown. Having answered her question, he bent down and kissed her roughly.

Sod Buffy. Why was she talking about Buffy? They should be kissing instead. And kissed they did. He had no idea what had suddenly got into her, but he didn't care. He liked snogging.

When she pulled away from him she smirked. "Brown? Not red?"

"No, not red. I said brown, didn't I? She looks good in bro--"

She smirked again.

"Oi! That's cheating! You--you an' your feminine wiles! Trickin' me into . . . Wait, what did you trick me into again?"

"You would kill Buffy if you had the chance," she reminded. He nodded. "But you didn't think red looked best on her."

He sighed. "Women."

* * *

Kathryn was quite pleased with herself. She could flirt. Sort of. Well, flirting on accident she could do. Flirting with a purpose, flirting to manipulate, that was tougher. But apparently it had worked. She knew Spike had been bothered by the comment Kyle had made, although she didn't really understand it. Sometimes she thought Spike was more worried about what he would do than she was. Well, actually she knew that he did seeing as she never really worried much about it at all.

"Looks like she scampered," Spike aired as they looked around, and he let go of her hand. "Or she's out on the town for the night. Either way, good for us."

She looked around at the cave. She'd never thought a cave could be homey, but oddly enough, it looked rather cosy. There was a bed and everything. "So, what are doing here again?"

"Looking for tuxes."

She nodded. "Oh. Right."

"There are some boxes over there. I'll look in these ones. You find anything you like, give a holler."

She nodded and opened a cardboard box. She rifled through some of the clothes. She found a very old-fashioned looking suit that seemed more appropriate for Rupert than Spike. Most of the clothes looked like Spike had been some sort of dockworker in the past. She did find a pinstriped suit she thought looked all right, and sat that aside for comparison later, although she thought it looked a bit like something a gangster from the 1920's would wear. She furrowed her eyebrows. Maybe Spike had been a gangster. She'd have to ask him if he knew Al Capone later.

She opened the next box, but instead of suits and long jackets (it seemed Spike had a thing for long coats--including one that had a swastika on it, which meant she was going to ask him even more questions about his past) she found dresses. She pulled them out, looking them over. They looked old fashioned, like from the nineteenth century. There were shawls in there as well, and half-empty bottles of perfume.

She pulled out a long, red dress and she smiled, holding it in her hands. It was as dark as her blood, with a low neckline and thin straps for sleeves. The upper half of the dress some sort of lace on it, a lighter shade of red, and it was cinched around the waist.

She stood up and pressed it against her body, noticing that it was a bit too long for her. She liked how it looked, though. She imagined Drusilla wearing the dress, and how it would look on her skin, with her long, brunette hair so dark it was almost black, curling against Spike and murmuring odd metaphors in his ears. She felt a pang in her chest that was part jealousy and part worry. It was the cloud that hung over her head, the looming sense of doom when she remembered that Drusilla was alive because of her, and one day, that decision would come back to haunt her.

But right now, she was supposed to be looking for anything suitable for Spike to wear at prom, not holding his ex's dress against her body and swaying.

"You like that?" he asked and she turned around sharply, embarrassed that he'd caught her holding the dress against her.

"Yes. She has nice clothes." She tossed it back in the box, on top of Drusilla's other dresses. Spike was staring at her funnily, but she ignore it, noticing that he was standing and holding a bundle of clothes in his hand. Eager to get the attention off of her, she gestured towards him. "So, uh . . . what about those?"

"Oh, right." He started walking towards her, tossing black slacks at her. She caught them and held them out in front of her. They looked like any other pair of black pants that would come with a suit. Then he stood in front of her. "I didn't keep the overcoat, but look at this." She looked at what he was holding. In one hand, he was holding a black vest, and in the other, there was a blood-red shirt. "Whaddaya think? These were the ones I was lookin' for actually."

She tossed the slacks back at him and he caught it with the hand that was also holding the black vest. "I like it."

He folded all the clothes over his left arm, and he looked her over. "Did you like that dress, pet?"

"What, Dru's?" He nodded. "Yeah. I bet she looked great in that."

He tilted his head and his eyes roved over her body. "Do you want it?"

"Spike, I--I couldn't," she whispered, shaking her head.

He stepped closer to her and held the side of her face in his right hand. "Do you want it?" he asked again, more firmly. She didn't want to tell him, but she had rather liked it. Apparently, silence was consent, because he smiled at her. "Take it. It's yours."

"But--but it's Dru's."

He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on her cheek, the moved his mouth so it was beside her ear. "I won't be thinkin' o' her. Take it."


	31. Chapter 31

"Imagine that. I'm probably the only girl in Sunnydale High that got a hot prom dress for free." She held it in her hands, feeling the smooth fabric slide against her skin. "Then again, I'm probably the only girl who will be wearing my boyfriend's ex's clothes."

"Well, I'll probably be the only guy whose girlfriend should have her killed boyfriend's ex but didn't, so no worries."

"We are totally unique," she aired in amusement, smiling at Spike giddily. "You know what else? I'll probably be the only girl who's been marked by my boyfriend's ex." She pointed at the scar on her neck.

"And I'll probably be the oldest one there."

"Yep, we're special. There's no way around it."

"Not to mention the fact you're probably the first slayer to take a vampire to prom."

She looked at him, furrowing her brows, eyeing the tux he hung over his arm. Figuring she should probably stop ogling her new dress, she hung it over her right arm and reached down, grasping his right hand with her left. "Well . . . Maybe. You think Buffy took Angel?"

"Bloody hell. Didn't even think 'bout that. Is it just me, or did she . . . act a little _off_ when we told her?"

"Not just you. Maybe they didn't go. Or maybe they did and it went . . . badly. I don't know, it's so hard to tell with her. She could win a million dollars and find some way to complain about it." She realized the acidic tone her voice took and winced. "I'm sorry, that was a bit, um--"

"Bit too honest? Look, luv, it doesn't matter if she took Angel or not. You're takin' me, we're a far better couple than Summers and Peaches, and Buffy _is_ a whiny little tart. No skin off my nose if you insult her."

She leaned her head against his shoulder briefly. "I know. It doesn't matter."

"Nothin' matters except you an' me. Don't let her change you into one o' them. Don't you ever let her make you think she's the one an' only 'cause guess what pet? She's got you now. It can't always be about her . . . an' it's about high bloody time she realizes it. I never told you this, 'cause I didn't think it was important, but she had her birthday way off in January an' didn't tell you because she figured you should worry 'bout other things. Maybe she's realized it too, an' you know what? It's about time she did."

They ambled on her porch and she let go of his hand so she could open the door and walk inside. She walked into the living room. "Hey, Dad, I got the dress," she announced as she whipped it off her arm and presented it with a flourish.

And realized that she had a guest.

Kyle was sitting in the recliner with his arms folded across his chest and his lips were a thin, white line. He was glaring at the woman that stood in the middle of her living room, who turned around to look at Kathryn. Her father was sitting on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he glanced up to look at Spike.

"Well, now that is lovely," the woman said, grey eyes travelling over the dress appreciatively.

The first thing Kathryn noticed was that the girl was British, which made her skin crawl. An Englishwoman standing in her living room could only mean one thing.

She quickly draped it over her right arm again. "I'm glad you think so. It's my prom dress."

The woman cocked her head to the side, then looked at Spike as if just realizing he was standing there. "And you must be the date."

"Uh-huh . . ." He stood closer to Kathryn and his hand found hers. "And you are . . . ?"

"I'm Amber Cotswalds. And you?"

"Well, I'm Kathryn's date," he replied coldly.

Amber looked between them, and the genial smile on her face faltered. "I meant your name."

"I know what you meant." Judging by Spike's reaction towards Amber, Kathryn figured he'd come to the same conclusion that she had. "Mind if I ask why you're here? Don't see much of a family resemblance, so I'm guessin' it's not a reunion."

"It's a personal family affair that I would rather discuss when you're not here," she told him rudely, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her hip out slightly.

"Well anything you say in front of my girlfriend you can say in front of me," he growled, holding her hand tighter, as if afraid she was going to let go.

"He's right. Anything you say I'm just gonna tell him anyway." She stepped even closer to him, so that their arms were pressed against each other's.

"I think there are some things you'd rather not have him hear."

"Like I'm a vampire slayer?" she suggested innocently. Amber unfolded her arms and stared at Kathryn in shock. "For instance?"

"That is a sacred duty meant to be a secret!"

"Hmm, really? I guess I might have known that if someone had been kind enough to tell me. Oops, my mistake. Guess it sorta . . . slipped." She shrugged, pursing her lips and glaring at the woman she assumed was supposed to be her Watcher.

"Who else knows, besides him and your family?"

"Who do you think? How about the people who trained me? Think they might have a clue?"

She started towards them and Spike stepped forward, as if afraid she was going to attack them. Kathryn didn't really need him standing in front of her, as she was sure he knew, but the gesture was nice. Amber stopped as soon as Spike did that.

The two of them stared at each other, refusing to back down, but apparently Spike had a better glare because Amber took a step back, and Spike returned to Kathryn's side.

"I am your Watcher and you will talk to me with respect."

"You are _not_ my Watcher. I _have_ one, and _you_ are not him."

Amber narrowed her unfeeling eyes. "If you are referring to Rupert Giles, then I can assure you, he is _not_ a Watcher. He is not fit to be one. I am your Watcher, I was specifically chosen to be in charge of you, and you _will_ do as I say."

"You should've thought about that before!" Kathryn yelled suddenly, taking a few steps forward, the dress slipping from her arm and onto the floor. Kyle and her dad moved to stand up, like they were going to step between her and Amber, as if that would stop Kathryn if she really wanted to beat the bitch up, but eased back into their seats when all she did was point at her face. "You should have thought about that before you left me to figure things out for myself!"

"There were circumstances!"

"Circumstances? What, you mean the fact you all left me here to die? The fact that nobody shipped their happy ass over the pond to explain to me that I was a slayer? Or what about the fact you were just going to waltz into my house the day of the test and toss me into a room with Drusilla and expect me to kill her without an ounce of training? Oh, yes, thank you so much for clearing that up!"

"It was a completely unprecedented situation! We were at a loss!"

"So what? You just expect me to figure it all out on my own? I had no idea that demons existed! It was by _luck_ I came across people who did!" she shrieked, even though it wasn't luck so much as Kyle meddling, but Amber didn't need to know that. "Face it, you and your council were hoping I'd die so you could start on the next girl!"

"You have to admit, Kathryn, that it wasn't very likely that you would survive," Amber explained calmly, as if that excused everything.

"So you just allow it? Instead of sending someone here to train me, you just brush it off? Now, what, you expect me to be all buddy-buddy with you? Not likely! Rupert Giles trained me, even though he didn't think I would live either! Now, two months after I kill her, suddenly you're at my door?"

"How did you know her name?" Amber asked suddenly, completely ignoring the argument altogether.

"What?"

"The vampire you fought. Earlier, you referred to her as Drusilla. How did you know her name?"

Kathryn blinked, confused. Had she really said her name? "What? What the hell does it matter? She told me her name! She also started rambling on about stars! Do you want me to tell you all that too? All about the stars bursting and the papers being ripped and blah, blah, blah? And quit changing the subject!"

"I can see where you might be upset, Kathryn, but you have to understand _our_ side before you--"

"Understand what? That you didn't want to waste time and money sending someone over here to explain the situation? To prepare me? To take responsibility for _your_ mistake? You left me here to die! Some Watcher you are!"

"I assure you I am perfectly qualified--"

"Shut up! I don't give a damn if you're qualified! Rupert Giles is my Watcher!"

"He is unfit to be--"

"Unfit because he actually has a heart unlike you soulless pieces of--"

She grabbed Kathryn's shoulders suddenly and shook her. "Do not interrupt me! You will do as you're told an--"

THWACK!

Amber flew back and smacked against a wall, the family portrait of her entire family, before her mother and sister's death, fell to the floor just as Amber did. Spike yowled in pain and clutched his forward, and it wasn't until then Kathryn realized he'd punched her. After the initial pain of his chip, Spike pointed at Amber, who was holding her face, blood seeping between her fingers. "Keep your hands off my girlfriend!" he shouted.

Amber shakily stood, coughing, blood spraying outwards as she did. "How _dare _you attack a member of the Watcher's Council!"

"Touch my girl like that again and your nose won't be the only thing that's broken," he threatened, storming over to her. The woman was only an inch or so shorter than Spike, but he managed to lean over her and stare her down.

Amber retreated, holding her nose, and Spike moved in front of her again. "You're not human," she stated, her voice surprisingly clear for someone with a broken nose.

"You don't say?" he growled.

Kyle stood up and pressed his way in between Amber and Spike. Amber took a few steps back and pulled out a handkerchief, putting it to the bloody mess that was her lower face. Spike remained stubborn, digging his heels into the ground. and glaring past Kyle's shoulder. "Spike," Kyle warned.

Spike glanced down at Kyle, then raised both of his hands in surrender, taking a step back. Kathryn went over to him and slid her arm through his, pressing her body against his. He had overreacted, but she was glad he'd been the one to punch her, because honestly? He'd beaten her to it. Kathryn wasn't going to put up with some stranger grabbing her arms like that.

He looked down at her, as if stunned, but she just smiled at him, then glared back at Amber.

"I owe you my thanks, Kyle," she blubbered through the blood.

"I didn't do that for you, bitch. You may not believe me, but you've got an unfair advantage over him, and I'd hate to have to go and get some Advil for him after he tore your throat out. We just ran out this morning, and I'm too tired to drive," he snarled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Besides, I hear blood's a real pain to get out of the carpet."

"Am I to infer you would allow that--that _thing_ to kill me?"

"Well, no, I don't think allow is the right word." He folded his arms over his chest. "Encourage, perhaps?"

She stood up straighter, then winced and pressed a hand to her back. "This is unacceptable behaviour! He is a vampire!"

"And yet, he's the one with a heart. Funny, seeing as you've got the soul." He grabbed her by the arm and she tugged away from him. He grabbed her arm again. "You want me to fix your nose or not?" he snapped.

She glared, then followed him to the bathroom.

"Huh. Didn't expect that," Spike mumbled, then shrugged.

Kathryn furrowed her eyebrows. "Me, either. Stupid bitch."

"She's just doing her job, Kathryn," her father told her dully from behind them. She let go of Spike's arm and turned to stare at her dad, who was still pinching the bridge of his nose. He must have been aware of the fact they were staring at him though, because he raised his head. "Oh, no, don't think I didn't enjoy watching her fly across the room, because I think everyone in this room can honestly say Spike beat us to the punch--pun intended--I'm just saying, she doesn't understand anything."

"You gotta point there," Kathryn conceded depressingly.

"We're going to have to explain the situation to her. You know that if the Council gets word that he is your boyfriend, they might . . . be a little unhappy. And as much as you don't want her to be, she is your Watcher."

"I know." She shuffled her feet awkwardly, snarling at the very thought of having to be under her tutelage.

Her dad smiled at her suddenly. "That being said, hon, I really like the dress."

* * *

Kyle was pissed. To have some stranger in his house, telling him and his dad that Kathryn was no longer under their care but hers was bad enough, but to grab her sister and _shake_ her, as if Kathryn had no right to feel as she did about the situation? That was crossing the line. Kyle didn't care of Amber was a woman, but nobody treated his little sister like that. How dare she waltz in like she owned the place after completely ignoring his sister? How dare the Council even send someone after the stunt they pulled?

He wasn't kind when he pulled Amber Cotswalds into the bathroom. He practically tossed her against the sink. She looked to be around his age, which surprised him. Normally Watchers were a bit older, weren't they?

"You ever had to reset your nose before?" he asked, tearing the handkerchief from her face and tossing it into the sink.

"No. Have you?" she countered angrily.

"Yup. It's gonna hurt, but see how much I care about that." He grabbed her nose, ignoring her hiss. He felt around for a bit, then shifted the bone back into place. She cried out, but he didn't really care.

She turned around and bent over the sink, new blood pouring freely towards the porcelain.

"You're a bit young to be a Watcher, aren't you?" He tried to keep his tone civil, but it came out as somewhat strained anyway.

"Youngest to have a slayer under her care," she revealed haughtily, as if it were a good thing.

Kyle laughed. "You're so naïve. Come on. They sent you here because you're inexperienced. You're young. They don't really expect her to survive, and you know it."

"No slayer survives for long, and I'll have you know that I was the top of my class."

"Ooh, wow, utterly fascinating."

"Do not mock the Council, sir."

"Do not call me sir, _ma'am_. You know my name; use it." He was not serving her alcohol, and she would not talk to him like he was waiting on her. He was not at work, and he would not be treated like he was.

She spat some blood into the sink. "The Council does not take the assignment of a Watcher lightly. Normally the Council has a good estimate of who would be called next. As I'm sure you're aware, most slayers have a Watcher before they are called. And as much as you may hate us for it, but the chances of her survival were slim."

"And you can't be bothered to send someone here. They aren't girls to you--they're tools. And why bother with her, right? You think I don't get it? Why waste time on someone who can't possibly be a good slayer. You were just hoping she'd die so someone better could be called."

"They chose me for a reason. The Council was aware of who had trained her; the Council was aware of her liaisons. They needed someone firm. Adamant. Someone who won't be cowed easily. And I will gain the upper-hand. I will have control."

"Talk about my sister like she's a thing again, and you'll find out just how much control you're not in. She was doing perfectly fine here without you. Obviously."

"She is currently dating a vampire. I fail to see how that constitutes as fine. We will not lose her to the path Buffy Summers took."

"Buffy's lived quite a long while and saved the world plenty of times. I fail to see how that's such a bad thing."

"She is to be reared and taught how to fight; she is a warrior, not a frail child. I will not have her thinking otherwise."

"Hmm, is it just me, or does that sound a little rehearsed?" He waited for a response, and all he got was the sound of her spitting blood. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"You know we're going to have to destroy the vampire."

"You're not touching him. Touch him, and you'll have one pissed off slayer going at your throat. He's perfectly fine. He would never hurt her, and I trust him."

"She kills me, she becomes a rogue slayer. I'm sure you're aware of what that entails?"

"Wow, you're really not getting the moral of this story, are you? Threaten my sister's life again, and you're going to have a serious problem. The second Spike puts her in danger, the second he tries to hurt her, then by all means, ram a stake through his heart--if you can get close enough. I'm sure the name William the Bloody means something to you?"

That certainly got a rise out of her. She stood up and looked at him through the reflection of the mirror. "She's dating the Slayer of Slayers? You honestly do not see any problem with this?" He smirked at her, enjoying her shocked expression in the glassy surface of the mirror. "She is aware that she killed Drusilla, the woman he is most loyal to?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And he's okay with this?"

"Apparently." He furrowed his eyebrows. Now that he thought about it, that was a bit strange. He'd never really realized how odd it was for Spike to be so accepting of Dru's death. Then again, she had dumped him for a Chaos Demon.

She furrowed her eyebrows, then turned on the faucet to the sink. "Is _he_ aware of the fact Drusilla is dead?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head and began washing her handkerchief. "This is beyond wrong."

"And yet, I can't seem to care. Who are you to decide how my sister lives her life? You don't even care about her, you know nothing about our life, and we were fine without you. You think you're necessary? You're nothing but a waste of space, as far as I'm concerned."

She pressed the wet handkerchief to her face, wiping the blood away from her skin. "What does Advil have to do with the vampire?"

"He's got a chip in his head. Causes him harm when he hurts people."

"He honestly cannot hurt anything without pain?"

"He can't hurt anything living. He can hurt demons."

"He broke my nose."

"Like I said," Kyle murmured darkly as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, "he can hurt demons."

He slammed the door shut on her aghast face, taking pleasure in her expression.

* * *

A/N--this chapter is dedicated to Allen Pitt. Sorry it took so long to get the Watcher, but there were reasons (which will be explained next chapter) why.


	32. Chapter 32

"Two months, Rupert. It took them two months to send someone here. Why the hell even bother?" she asked angrily.

He massaged his temples and shook his head. "The Council . . . doesn't send Watchers at random. They take into account the girl in question, and how old she is when they find her. I, for one, was chosen as Buffy's Watcher because her parents recently divorced, and I was . . . exceedingly patient. They had read Merrick's diaries, and knew she was difficult. They thought she would be in need of a father figure. Not to mention, seeing as I had an unsavoury past, they thought I might be able to . . . understand her, ah, volatile nature."

She sighed. "So why do you think they chose Amber?"

"You said she's not too much older than your brother?"

"They look about the same age."

"They are, no doubt, aware of the fact your mother and sister were killed when you were a child, and you were, therefore, raised around males. They most likely assumed you would respond well to female companionship--that you would crave it. I'm sure they also were aware that you were trained by me and, er . . . presumably Buffy, and as such, may have retained some of our, er, tenacious, ah, qualities. They probably sent a real harridan in an attempt to control you."

"Well I'd like to see her try," she remarked.

The microwave beeped and Spike took out his mug of blood. "Are they daft or what? Don't they know girls raised by guys are more comfortable around males?"

"They aren't aware you trained her, Spike. I'm sure they assumed Buffy and her became close. Does she have blonde hair and light-coloured eyes?"

"Yep. How'd you figure?" Spike inquired, taking a long draught of blood.

"It would not surprise me if they chose someone they thought resembled Buffy, assuming you two were . . . friends."

"So, what, you think if they knew I'd trained her and they might have sent some bloke over instead?"

Rupert sighed, then nodded. "Most likely. This is highly distressing news, Kathryn."

"You're telling me. She flipped when she figured out Spike was a vampire."

"Understandably, of course. But I can assure you, having a Watcher involving herself in our affairs--involving the Council in our lives--is worrisome."

"I'll just quit, like Buffy. As far as I'm concerned, you're my Watcher, whether they like it or not."

Rupert smiled suddenly and blushed a little. He took off his glasses and started wiping them. "Well, er, y-yes, of course." He put his glasses back on his nose. "But I'm not sure that would work very well."

"Why not? Buffy did it."

"Wesley was already considered a disgrace to the Council at that point in time, and they had lost all respect towards Buffy as well. It's not as though they were upset at her declaration. I'm afraid that they'll view you as their way of regaining control over the Chosen Ones."

"Well I'd like to see her try and run my life, stupid bitch."

"They prob'ly still don't have high hopes for you, luv. They sent a young'un. They're not expectin' her to stay long, I wager. We're gonna have to prove to them how wrong they are."

"And we will," Kathryn stated firmly.

There were a few knocks on the door, and Rupert went over to it, sighing when he saw who the person on the other side was. "I take it you are Miss Cotswalds?"

"And you must be Rupert." Without even asking permission, she walked into the house.

Rupert calmly shut the door behind her and glared at the back of her head. "Please, why don't you come in?"

Amber ignored his remark, then stared at Spike, who was leaning against the counter and drinking blood casually. She stared at him for awhile, and he didn't blink once. Finally she looked away and smiled at Kathryn. "I had a feeling you'd be here."

"Stalker," she grumbled.

"I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot last night. I understand where you might be upset, but I don't wish to . . . be your enemy."

Kathryn looked Amber, whose nose had a small cut over the bridge, and had two black eyes. "I'm sure you don't."

"I'm even willing to allow this . . ." She gestured towards Spike dismissively. ". . . vampire to live."

"I'd like to see you _try_ an' kill me."

"Oh, I am fully aware of your chip, sir. I have no intentions of killing a harmless being."

"Harmless did that to your face, then?"

Amber sighed, then turned away from Spike, walking closer to Kathryn, who stepped away. "Obviously you are adept at handling yourself. You did, after all, kill Drusilla with little effort. You weren't in there longer than forty minutes."

Kathryn forced her eyes to remain on Amber's. She was worried that a quick glance in Spike's direction would give her away. "It wasn't easy," she said coolly.

"And I can't deny that the vampire--"

"The name is Spike, bint," he growled.

"--that Spike has some genuine, er, concern for you. That is the only reason I'm allowing him to live. We are all aware of how protective he is over those he cares about, and if he has forgiven you for your dispatching of Drusilla, then I am forced to see that he . . . must truly . . . feel something. As much as a vampire can feel."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "Much more than you can."

"However, I cannot condone your relationship with him. Being a slayer is not a social calling, but a sacred one--and you cannot afford to be distracted with such notions as romance. And as for your attendance in school, it may be best to withdraw."

"Um, no."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot allow--"

"Nope. I've managed pretty well this far."

"Kathryn, listen to me, you need to--"

"And you could've killed Drusilla, then? How about we listen to the girl who actually slays the vampires instead of the one who stands by and lets it happen?"

Amber narrowed her eyes. "You are being difficult. You are not going to continue your relations with Spike, and that is final."

"That so?" She stormed over to Spike, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and brought his mouth to hers. Spike smiled against her lips and set aside the mug, placing it on the counter. She pressed her tongue against his, tasting the he'd been drinking, but not caring.

She pulled away from him and turned around, smirking at Amber. "Say what you like, but when it comes down to it, I'm gonna do what I want. You can even ask Rupert if you want."

"It's quite true, otherwise she wouldn't be kissing him. I asked her not to become attached."

"And clearly, I did."

"I refuse to allow--"

Kathryn interrupted her so-called Watcher. "And what are you gonna do about it?" She walked over to Amber slowly and stopped when she was only a few inches away. She stared up at her, hating the fact that Amber was taller than she was. "I'm going to attend school. I'm going to prom _with_ Spike. And there's not one thing you can do about it."

Amber stood taller and loomed over Kathryn. Kathryn had to admit she was a bit threatening, but seeing as she fought vampires frequently, she wasn't going to back down. "I am your Watcher, hence you will do as I say. You will withdraw out of school and you will _not_ attend prom with the vampire, and as for your relationship . . . it _will_ end."

"And how are you gonna make me?" She waited for Amber to say something, but nothing left her mouth. "I'm graduating next month. If you wait a couple of weeks, school won't even be an issue anymore--for three months. Three months, you won't have to worry about me going to class. After that, I will be attending the college--here, in Sunnydale. You can plan whatever the hell you want to plan around _my_ schedule. I'm the slayer. What _I_ say, goes."

Amber deflated slightly and stepped back. "Am I to understand that you . . . accept me as your Watcher, then?"

"As my watcher, yes. As my dictator? No. If you wanted me to respect you, then you should've shown up in January."

Amber blinked a few times, then nodded brusquely. "Very well. You will see me for training every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Every other Saturday, you will be trained as well. You will show up after school on those days, and on Saturday, you will show at ten am, sharp. Do you understand?"

Kathryn looked her over, then folded her arms. "What about homework?"

"I will allow you to do it at my house before training."

"Fine. But there will be no training on prom, whether or not it's a training day. And the second you interfere in my personal life, I stop showing. Understand? You train me. That's it. You are not my mother, you are not my counsellor, and you are _not_ my friend."

Amber furrowed her eyebrows. "If that is what you want, then so be it."

"It is what I want."

With that, Amber turned on her heel and left Rupert's house. The door slammed shut behind her.

"Well . . . haven't seen you talk like that to anyone but your brother. She must've really got you good an' riled." She turned back at Spike, who hopped up on the counter, swaying his legs absent-mindedly while he sat. "Think she got the picture of you not likin' her?"

Although there was some residual anger at Amber, she smiled at Spike. "I think she got the point, yeah."

* * *

Kathryn dumped her backpack on the floor to show that she was there. Amber, who had been busy reading something, jumped about a foot in the air and gasped. Kathryn smirked and waggled her fingers at her watcher.

"I'm here for training," she reminded, pushing aside her backpack with her foot. "Unless you wanna call of the whole thing and head back to England."

Amber tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "No, that won't be necessary. I have the punching bag ready for you already." She gestured to the long, heavy bag that hung from the ceiling.

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh, because I totally didn't see that _at all."_

"I don't see why you have to insist on taking a tone with me, Miss Daltry. I don't see you acting this way around anyone else."

"We've been through this."

"I don't see why you're taking it out on me. It's not as though I was even aware of your existence in January. It was not _my_ decision to have you fight with your lover's ex-girlfriend with little training."

Kathryn sighed. "You work for the Council, right?" Amber nodded. "And you agree with how they treated this whole situation?"

"Of course. Kathryn, as much as you deny it you are not an ordinary girl. You were chosen by fate to fight demons. You cannot be bothered with--with simple, ordinary things. You are above that. And as much as you hate to hear it, you have to look at the safety of those around you more than how you would like to live your life. It is about necessity, not . . . not _pleasure."_

"And I'm a tool, not a human being. You can actually say those words aloud and not understand why the hell I don't like you? It might not have been your decision, but you agree with it. I don't have to get to know Hitler personally in order to know I hate him."

"Comparing the Council to the Nazi regime is a bit harsh."

"And yet I do it anyway. Are you gonna train me or talk my ear off?"

Amber sighed, then gestured again to the heavy bag. "Very well then."

Kathryn rolled her eyes as she attacked the bag furiously, first with wide, powerful swings, then she worked on her jabs, then she worked on her kicks. After that, she did a combination of all while Amber circled the punching bag, biting a knuckle in thought, as if trying to find something wrong with her technique. As if trying to prove Rupert was unfit to train her. But Amber never spoke, so Kathryn assumed she was doing all right.

When Kathryn's arms were starting to get a little heavy and her mind started to wander out of boredom, Amber finally walked over to her and handed her a cool glass of water. "So you don't become dehydrated," she told her, as if Kathryn had never seen a glass of water before in her life.

She took a drink of it, then went over and sat on the couch, placing the glass on the coffee table. Amber rushed forward, grabbed a coaster, and put the glass on it. Kathryn rolled her eyes.

"So . . . Did you, er, patrol last night?"

"Yeah." She straightened up and smirked at Amber. "With Spike. We usually patrol together."

Amber seemed stunned by that. "You . . . bring him with you? Are you sure that's wise? He could be a distraction."

"He's damn good in a fight."

"You shouldn't have to rely on him. You should be able to do it on your own--if you cannot patrol without him, then I fear you are lacking in ability indeed."

"I don't need him there," she snapped angrily, looking over Amber with a snarl on her face. "I _want_ him there. Big difference."

"And once again, you are being selfish, Your calling isn't based on what you want to do, but what you need to do. Spike being a vampire aside, I still do not believe it wise for you to . . . have a boyfriend. It distracts you from your purpose."

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Blah, blah, blah."

"I'm being serious. I honestly believe you should put all of your focus on being a slayer--not on . . . not on whatever it is you call what you're doing."

"Having a life? I can balance life and slaying pretty well, I think."

Amber strode over to the couch and sat beside her, and if Kathryn didn't know better, she'd say Amber was trying to appear maternal. "But that's just it, Kathryn. You shouldn't have to balance life and slaying--they are one and the same for you. You cannot separate the two of them. You are the slayer. That is all you are. You cannot afford to pretend otherwise."

Kathryn pursed her lips and scooted away, shaking her head. "Why do you keep talking? I'm not listening. You might as well talk to that wall over there. I really don't care about anything you have to say. I'm not going to change my life for you, sacred calling or not." She knew she was being snippy, but she didn't care. She knew she could be downright cruel at times--living with Kyle had proven that. It was a shame she had wasted so many years treating her brother the way she was treating Amber. She often felt guilty about that--but nothing would make her guilty for snapping at her.

Amber let out a long sigh, then remained quiet for few seconds. "May I ask you something?"

"You're going to anyway."

"I meant, a question as a woman, not as a Watcher."

Kathryn frowned, then took a drink of her cold water to contemplate whether or not she was interested. When she placed the glass down on the coaster, she nodded. "Sure."

"Is Spike a . . . good boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah. Not that I have a lot to compare him to--he's my first boyfriend--but . . . Well, I think so. Why do you ask?" She narrowed her eyes. "You don't _like_ him do you?"

"No! I would never, um . . . try to . . . _flirt_ with him, if that's what you're worried about. It's something I've been wondering for awhile--before I knew he was here. I've read about him and Drusilla, and he seemed to have . . . genuine concern for her. Obviously, the books I read brushed it aside as a sort of partnership, but . . . they seemed to focus more on trying to make it sound drab and without love. When it came to their relationship, it always felt . . . like the books were trying to hide something. From what I've, er . . . gathered, he doesn't seem like other vampires. Is this true?"

"Well . . . I don't know. I can tell you he really loves her, though." She pursed her lip at the thought of it. Knowing that Spike loved Drusilla bothered her. She didn't want to be the jealous girlfriend, it was unfair to ask Spike _not_ to love Dru, but she couldn't help it.

"Loved. Past tense."

"Huh? Right. Yeah." She blinked a few times. "That's what I meant--he really, truly cared for her. Did you know the Judge tried to burn him once? And the Judge can only burn people who have real feelings. He couldn't hurt Angelus, but he could hurt Spike, if he wanted. Drusilla, too."

"The Judge? I've heard of him, but I . . . I wasn't aware Spike had come into contact with him. But that cannot be--vampires can't feel. You must be mistaken."

"No, I'm not. The Judge actually burned a vampire in front of them. Vampires can feel, Amber, whether or not the Council tells you that. But maybe Spike feels more than most. Maybe he's an anomaly. All I know is that he can feel--he feels for me and he . . . loved Drusilla, and he feels jealousy, and you saw--first hand--that he can be protective." As if to prove her point, she pointed at the bruises still on Amber's face.

Amber gingerly touched the bridge of her nose. "Hmm . . ." She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, then she shook her head. "But you're happy with him? He's . . . treating you right?"

"Yeah. He's a real gentleman."

"Hmm . . . yes, well . . . that's enough off-topic chat for today. It's all very well and good you think he's a decent man, I suppose." She shifted awkwardly on the couch, as if uncomfortable with what she'd heard. "Now, back onto business. Do you have slayer dreams?"

"What, like . . . dreams of being other slayers?"

"No . . . I meant, prophetic dreams. Sometimes, a slayer will have a dream that . . . runs deeper than the normal fantasy or nightmare. I'm not sure how it works, seeing as I'm not a slayer, but it feels . . . different than other dreams."

Kathryn shrugged. "I don't think so. But sometimes I have dreams I'm different slayers. I didn't know what they were for awhile, though. I just thought they were dreams."

"Did you die in these dreams?"

"Most of the time, yeah. But sometimes I was just fighting. Fighting a random demon in a cemetery. I had a dream I drowned, once. Some guy bit me and shoved me into a . . . puddle. Once, I was burned at the stake, too. But sometimes I'm just fighting. I blew up a giant blue guy with a rocket launcher, and once I was some . . . French girl. I was taunting the vampire in French, and something I said really pissed him off, and then I chopped off his head. Those are just some of them, though. I can't really go through all of them with you. Why?"

She nodded slowly. "Do you still have them?"

"Uh-huh. I dreamt I was Buffy once, and Spike was fighting me. That was kinda weird." She shrugged, narrowing her eyebrows. She'd had the dream only a few nights ago. "Um . . . I dropped an organ on him."

She nodded. "May I ask you some questions about your dreams?"

"Why? You've got the Watcher Diaries for that."

"I just don't understand how you didn't . . . figure what you were with the dreams. With your brother believing in demons and constantly talking to you about his beliefs, how did it not . . . occur to you that it was true? You never even thought, even for a moment, that perhaps you were a slayer? You must have known what they were."

"To be honest, I blamed my nightmares on him. I thought they came from him constantly blabbing away about it." She shrugged and grabbed her glass, drinking out of it again.

"May I ask you anyway?" she urged quietly.

Sighing, Kathryn sat the glass down. "Why not?" she muttered irritably. It didn't matter what she said; she knew Amber was going to ask anyway.

"What of the one where you were burned at the stake. Why?"

"I don't know. They thought I was a witch, I guess. I don't get the life story, you know. I kept looking at a guy through the flames--I think he was my watcher."

She nodded slowly. "Hmm . . . And when you dreamt you were foreign, did you understand what you were saying as you said it? What I mean to say is, were you inside the slayer's mind, or were you merely witnessing it from her eyes, but unable to control?"

Kathryn frowned, scratching the back of her head. Nobody had ever really taken an interest in her dreams before. Rupert had inquired after them once, but only once, and her brother had been a little intrigued, but never enough to ask about the details. "Well, uh . . . sorta. In my dream, it was like I was her--that I had control over what she was doing. In my dream, I understood what I was saying. But when I woke up, I couldn't remember. Like watching a foreign film with subtitles. When I'm watching it, I know what they're saying, but if you were to quote it to me in the language, I wouldn't know what you just said."

"Er . . . Yes. Speaking of foreign, did you ever dream you were Chinese?"

She searched her memory. "Um . . . Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did. But I died in that one."

"And the vampire you fought?" she asked slowly, tilting her head to the side.

Kathryn shrugged. "I don't know, I dreamt it like . . . sometime in November. Before I moved here." She closed her eyes, trying to picture it. "Um . . . Brownish hair?" She pictured the vampire in her mind, remembering fighting him with all that she had, trying so hard to kill him, and that she'd dropped her stake . . . He bit her from behind . . . _Sorry, luv, I don't speak Chinese . . ._

Her eyes opened and she glared at Amber. "You're a bitch," she snapped, standing up off of the couch. "For once I think you're acting like a human being, asking unrelated questions, wanting to know about my dreams--you are a conniving bitch. Don't talk to me."

Amber stood up suddenly. "You have to know what he--"

"I don't need to do anything. I know what he's done--quite a bit more than you do actually, don't try to kid yourself--and you trick me into--" She inhaled sharply, then shook her head. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is the fact you're dating a mass murderer. I don't think you understand the severity of--"

"Oh, get over yourself. You think you're so special because you went to the Council and read a bunch of books. You have no idea what it's like to be me--to have the dreams. To have memories that aren't yours traipsing through your head. To have a perfect image of your boyfriend snapping your neck. Guess what? I've accepted what he is--and before you get all up on your high horse, lemme tell you something--it wasn't easy. You think those dreams of me being Buffy and fighting him, or being some slayer on a subway, or--or even some run of the mill nightmares didn't come back full force?"

"I have a hard time believing you've given this serious thought."

"You don't know a damn thing about me, or my past, or Spike's past, and I think you should shut the hell up about stuff you don't understand. Shut your mouth."

"I think that, perhaps, I might have a wider knowledge of what he's done than you do."

"Oh, why? 'Cause you read a book? Do you know who his sire is? When he was sired? What his favourite flower is? Do you? Do you know the first time he had sex and who he had it with? Or even his first victim? You don't know a damn thing. And if you ever do that to me again, I'll sock you right in the face. How dare you--how _dare_ you act like a decent person for five seconds just to shove that thought into my head?"

Amber reached forward, as if to touch her shoulder comfortingly, but Kathryn took a few steps back. "Kathryn, please, we need to talk abou--"

"Let's get something straight, Amber," Kathryn murmured, stepping closer and pointing a finger in her face. "I don't like you. In fact, I despise you. You ever, _ever_ interfere in my life like that again, and I won't show up anymore. I'll quit. You'll lose your job. And I don't give a damn how many watchers they send my way, I won't listen to them. Way I see it, unless I kill one of you, they can't consider me a rogue. And you know what? As much as you like to think otherwise, I have the power. Me. Not you. And if I choose to do something, you can't stop me."

Amber rose to the challenge, and stood up straighter. "I assure you, Kathryn. I can."

Kathryn scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. As far as I'm concerned, today's training is over."

* * *

". . . and I thought she was just being civil for once," Kathryn said, ducking underneath a vampire's punch.

The vampire Spike was fighting went to jab him, but Spike grabbed his wrist and slammed his left palm against his elbow, so the joint popped in the opposite direction. The vampire yelled and doubled over, exposing his back. "Well there was your first mistake, pet. Amber, being civil?" Spike rammed his stake into the vampire's back, getting his heart from behind. The dust swirled around him and he turned his head so as to avoid breathing in ash.

"Yeah, you're right about that. Should've seen it comin'." The vampire blocked Kathryn's punch with his elbow, then grabbed her other arm as it went to hit him and twisted her, so that her back was against his chest, and he was pinning her arm between them. She swung her head back, connecting with the vampire's lip, then pivoted when the vampire stumbled backwards. "God, she is such a bitch."

Spike turned his attention towards the third vampire they were fighting, casually brushing aside her punches like they were nothing. She was obviously newly turned. Summers was right--there had been way too many fledglings lately. He would've blamed Dru, but she was bloody picky when it came to siring.

"So what happened then, luv?" he asked, before ramming a stake in the girl's heart, feeling a little let-down. It had been awhile since he'd gotten in a real brawl.

"Hold up a sec," he said, then kneed her opponent in the side. He grunted in pain, grabbing his ribs, and she slid her stake into his chest, yanking it out before he disintegrated. She dusted off her clothes casually. "Anyway, so she asked me about my slayer dreams. I thought she was just curious, then she brought up this Chinese slayer."

Spike frowned, walking over to her, standing directly in front of her. "Boxer Rebellion?" he inquired, dusting off her shoulders.

"Um, I don't know. Whenever you killed her, I guess."

He put his hand underneath her chin and tilted her head from side to side, checking for any bruises. "Boxer Rebellion, then. 1900."

"Oh. Well, I didn't know it was you at first. I had the dream, what, in November? Before I knew who you were." He brushed his knuckles along her cheek, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands were flat on his chest. "You had different hair then. Longer. Brownish."

"Not like they had hair bleach back in those days, yeah?"

She shrugged. "Guess not. It softened your face out, though. Made you look younger." She reached up and ran her finger along his eyebrows slowly, tracing the scar. "But now I know where you got that scar."

"So, what? Was it her master plan to get you away from me?"

Her hand returned to his chest, and he grinned. He liked it when she touched him. He liked having her near him. "I think so."

"Should I be worried?" he asked playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her against him.

"Oh, definitely." She slid her hands up his chest slowly, the side of her mouth quirking upwards. "It's a damn good thing she didn't ask about New York. Don't know how I would've coped thinking of you like that, all sexy and bleached with your hair spiked out . . ." She kissed him longer than he kissed her, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of having her against him, slowly running her hands up and down his chest and abdomen. He could feel the warmth from her palm burning through the fabric of his shirt. He breathed in her scent, feeling her breasts barely touch him with every breath she took.

She hummed and he pressed his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue in habitually, languidly kissing her. With each sweep of his tongue, pleasure swooped in his stomach. His hands tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss, groaning slightly when she moaned into his mouth.

She pulled away from him sighed, pressing her brow to his. He kept his eyes closed, relishing the feel of her hands slowly travelling along his chest and abdomen. She was warm and strong and everything he wanted. God, what had he done to be so lucky?

"Her name was Nikki," he revealed, brushing his lips against hers. "The slayer in New York. On the subway."

He groaned when he felt her tongue flick against his bottom lip. He brought it into his mouth and pressed against her more firmly, shuddering when she licked the roof of his mouth. When he grunted his pleasure and bucked his pelvis against hers, she did it again.

She chuckled breathily when she pulled away from him, and he opened his eyes to see her smiling lazily at him. "You have nothing to worry about, Spike. She can talk about all the people you've killed until the cows come home, and I'll still be in your arms at the end of the day. She doesn't know what I went through when I . . . when I wasn't with you. Those weeks were pretty much hell on me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her hands slid so that they encircled him and she pulled him closer, her fingers trailing up and down his back. "You killed my mom and sister, and I _still _wanna kiss you, even though it pisses me off. You honestly think some British bitch is gonna tear you away from me?"

He tilted his head to the side and watched the moonlight danced across her face and cast a black shadow over her dark eyes. "Nothin's gonna tear me from you, luv. I'm never leavin' your side." It almost scared him how deep his voice was and how it shook with conviction. He hadn't felt so complete since Drusilla, but the very thought of her leaving him seemed to tear him in half.

She furrowed her eyebrows and for a second he was afraid he'd scared her; that somehow she had seen just how deeply he cared about her, and it was frightening to her. Then she kissed him, her lips like fire, burning every inch of his skin even though she only touched his mouth.

She pulled away, a soft, small smile on her face. "Good."

* * *

A/N--Obviously, I made a reference to _Prophecy Girl, What's My Line? pt 2, _and_ Fool For Love_. The being burned at the stake is a reference to a slayer's death in a _Tales of the Slayers_ comic--to be honest, my favourite one.


	33. Chapter 33

Spike couldn't believe it. He honestly couldn't. In a month's time, he would be going to prom--with a slayer_._ He kept telling himself that it was just a silly high school dance and he'd danced with Kathryn a thousand times before, but the fact that it was important for Kathryn meant it was important for him, and that was what made him nervous. He knew how girls could be--well, at least he knew how Drusilla could be. If she planned a big party and something didn't go her way, she threw a fit to end all fits. There were times when she'd be inconsolable for weeks if something as simple as the flower arrangement went awry. She'd accuse him of not really knowing her, of not loving her as intensely as he said, and he would spend days, even weeks, making it up to her.

All right, so he figured Kathryn probably wouldn't scream and shout and go into a hallucinogenic fit if prom didn't go exactly how she imagined it, but that didn't mean she wouldn't get upset, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ever since they'd gotten together, everything has passed like a fantastic dream. Kathryn patrolled with him nearly every night. They had had their little spats, but nothing serious. When they weren't together, he thought about her constantly. When they had to say goodbye, it was like saying the words wrenched his undead heart from his chest. He hadn't felt so alive since Drusilla. Having Kathryn against him, holding him, kissing him softly . . . It made him feel complete. Like the gaping hole Drusilla had left was finally full again.

And what was worse, he was scribbling down pathetic verses and rhymes whenever they flitted across his mind. God help him, he was writing poetry.

He stared down at the sheet of paper he'd taken when Giles wasn't looking. It wasn't that he felt guilty or that he thought Giles would deny him the paper, but mostly because he didn't want Giles to ask why he needed it, or why he was furiously writing and scratching out words. Rhyming under his breath was bad enough--having one of the Scoobs find out that he was doing it would be hellish.

"What are you writing?" Giles asked from behind him.

Well, there went his attempts at being covert.

He slid the paper into his duster. "Er, nothin'."

"Spike, if it's something to do with--"

"I said it was nothin', all right? God, can't you give a man some bloody peace? Sodding . . . tweed wearin' . . . pouf." He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair awkwardly.

Giles opened his mouth to say something, but thankfully someone knocked on the door. He opened it to reveal Kathryn, and surprisingly, her father. "Er, hello," Giles greeted, opening the door wider and allowing them both to come in.

Spike and Stan looked at each other, then nodded.

"I'm Stan--Stan Daltry. Kathryn's father." Stan and Giles briefly shook hands.

"It's, er, a pleasant surprise to meet you at last. Kathryn speaks of you and her brother quite, er, highly." He waved an arm in Spike's direction. "This is Spike, although I suppose you two would have . . . already met." Stan just smiled in agreement and stuck his hands in his pocket, shuffling his weight from one foot to the next. Giles started walking into the kitchen area. "Is there something you'd like to drink?"

"Oh, no . . . but, uh . . . thank you."

Giles' hand was wrapped around the handle of the fridge. "Is there something troubling you, Mister Daltry?"

"Well . . . yes." His eyes wandered over to the clock and Spike's gaze followed. It was half past four. "Miss Cotswalds decided that, in order for her to _allow_ Kathryn to, um, graduate, then she would need to attend Parent-Teacher night."

"This presents a problem because . . . ?"

"I guess she has connections. Or at least, the Council does. They can, um . . . What was it she said, hon?"

Kathryn scowled deeply. "Hack into the school files. Mess up my credits, my attendance . . . that sort of thing." She looked at Giles hopefully. "We sorta got into a spat yesterday when she . . . uh, brought up my slayer dreams, and . . . I think this is somehow payback. Can she really do that?"

Giles sighed, then opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of brandy. "Yes, they can. Regrettably. They offered several times and even threatened with Buffy, however you need the permission of the slayer's watcher to do so, and a valid reason as to why--such as, that she doesn't take school seriously enough, or she can't balance the two. I have no doubt in my mind that she would allow them to do such." He opened a cupboard and placed a small glass on the cupboard, pouring himself a glass of brandy. "I assume there was an ultimatum of some sort?"

"Well . . . She found out about Parent-Teacher Night. It's not that hard, there are flyers everywhere. They've been announcing it for two weeks. And handing out safety brochures with them." Spike chuckled when she revealed that, much to the chagrin of Giles, who glared at him. "She decided to call my dad at three, knowing damn well that he works on Thursdays, and tell him that if she didn't get the paperwork tomorrow then she would do it. She'd make it so I couldn't graduate."

"Can't you go by yourself, luv?"

Kathryn sighed. "God, I wish. They only hand out the papers if you bring someone along. They're afraid the students will, um . . . toss 'em. We get extra credit if we go. Mostly I just ignore the whole thing--Dad doesn't really give a rat's ass either--and I would bring Kyle, but he _conveniently_ has to work too."

Stan sighed. "So, I was wondering . . . Giles, could you perhaps go with her? I'm not going to have that bitch screw up my little girl's chance of graduating--not after all this work."

Giles knocked back the brandy with the ease of someone who'd drank a lot of brandy in his time, then massaged his temple briefly. "I would love to, but seeing as I used to be a former employee, it might . . . present a problem. Many of the teachers there, er . . . would still recognize me, as it were, and showing up with one of the students . . ."

"And that's a problem why? Who cares about your reputation? There's nothing going on between the two of you, there's no proof, so who cares if you show up with her? I can't have that bitch ruin her chance of graduating!" Stan spat, standing up straighter.

"He's right, Dad. Kenny, well--when he actually _went_ to class--thought that Rupert and I were, well . . .you know." She cleared her throat and Giles nearly choked on the brandy he was drinking. "A lot of the teachers there think that he and Buffy and Willow had some sort of . . . thing. I hear them talking about you sometimes, at lunch. At the teacher's table. And some of the students, too. You know Amber is going to use anything she can to screw my life up--do you honestly think she'll let that slide if she finds out?"

Spike let out a sigh, then shrugged. "Bugger all, I'll do it."

"What?" Stan said, turning to look at Spike with shock.

"You heard me, yeah? I'll do it. What, it doesn't have to be her parent, right? Just someone to gather the papers, take 'em to you for you to sign, and talk to her teachers. Punch, streamers, doilies . . . Nothin' too epic. I've been to one before. Great big party."

"Spike, I doubt very much anyone here is interested in your, ah . . . experience in Parent-Teacher Night." He furrowed his eyebrows. "But yes, I think perhaps that is the best course of action. You'll have to change your clothes, of course. Someone might recognize you."

"Recognize him why?" Stan asked carefully.

He grinned slowly, resting his tongue on his bottom teeth. "As I said, I've been to one before."

* * *

"I don't know, luv, I feel like a total ponce," he grumbled, slamming his car door shut as he stepped into the parking lot. "Look what I'm wearing. I look like Rupert the bloody second." He glanced at Kathryn, who was already out of the car and heading towards him. He would have gone over to her side and opened the door for her, but she'd beaten him to it. It was a damn shame that girls didn't just expect their boyfriends to open doors for them. Spike knew that was his Inner William, but really, what sort of ponces did girls date these days?

Kathryn stood in front of him and held both of his hands, her thumbs brushing across his knuckles. "Oh come on, you don't look bad."

He scoffed and glanced down at the thick, brown turtleneck he was wearing, and then at the khakis. He raised his scarred eyebrow at her. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

"Oh come on, you look fine." He reached up and ruffled his hair. It wasn't slicked back, something that he was less than pleased about. It was curly and still damp from the shower.

"But it's not _me,"_ he whined.

"That's the point, Spike. Giles didn't want anyone recognizing you, for whatever reason . . . And you don't look like a ponce. You look fine." She placed both of her hands on his chest and tilted her head. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was turned downwards in a small pout. "Thanks for doing this, Spike. You didn't have to."

"O' course I did. You don't _want_ to miss graduation, do you?"

"No, Spike. You really didn't have to." He placed his hands on her hips and ducked his head, trying to understand where she was going with this. "You're evil, remember? You didn't have to come here and--and dress up in Rupert's clothes just for me."

"Kathryn . . ." He stepped closer to her, so that his chest was pressed against hers. He stared down at her through his lashes. "I don't give a toss about grades or teachers an' sod all else. School was over for me a long bloody time ago. But _you_ care about this. This . . . graduation; the school thing. It matters to you. And what matters to you, matters to me."

Her hands went up his chest and slipped into his hair, her fingers wrapping around his damp curls. He hadn't had time to slick his hair back after his shower, but judging by the way she seemed to enjoy playing with his hair, it wasn't a bad thing. She was staring at him like he was a fascinating piece of artwork, just running her fingers through his hair and memorizing every line on his face.

If he wanted, he could stare at her for hours, just relishing the feel of her touching him, staring at him like he was her everything, but he couldn't. So he leaned forward, kissed her gently and started walking her backwards while he brought her bottom lip into his mouth.

She hummed then turned in his arms, so that her back was pressed against him. He wrapped his arms around her abdomen and put his chin on her shoulder while they walked to the school. He ignored the looks a few of the people in the parking lot were throwing his way, and asked; "How long does this last?"

"It started at six and it ends at nine."

"So, what, 'bout an hour left then?"

"Basically. But anyway, we can leave as soon as I'm done talking to all my teachers."

He nipped at her earlobe then pressed a soft kiss on her jugular. "Best hurry this up, then. Less time I spend in this jumper, the better." He stepped way from her back then held her hand while they waltzed in through the doors.

The hallways were filled with parents and talking students, laughing while the procrastinated going to their teachers. They walked through, Spike casting a withering glare at his clothes every now and then. When they made it to the commons area, he saw that the entire placed was filled with tables, and at each table, a teacher sat there. Most of them were occupied with a student already with lines forming behind the chairs. Deciding he wasn't really in the mood to stand in line, he went over to the punch table and grabbed two cups of punch. He handed Kathryn the yellow cup while he kept the red one.

She sipped her punch, smiling softly at him, and he smiled back, staring deeply into her eyes. She stood inches in front of him. "So, you've been to one of these before, then?"

"Oh, yeah. Bit different then, though. Teachers weren't waitin' in the commons area. Least, I don't think so. Loads of fun, last time." He grinned when he remembered crashing in through the window and fighting Buffy for the very first time. God, that had been a rush. Kathryn was staring at him suspiciously. "O' course, it was at a different school then. Whatever happened to the old high school? Do ya know?"

She shrugged. "It blew up."

"It blew up?" he repeated, surprised.

"Yep."

"Bloody hell. Summers an' her li'l band of fighters, I expect?"

Kathryn shrugged. "I don't know. Makes sense, though."

"Yeah, well, tha'ts Buffy and her precious Scoobs for you. Wherever they are, chaos bloody follows." His eyes roved over his girlfriend, taking in the small juice moistening her bottom lip. Impulsively, he leaned forward and licked the drop off of her lip, then groaned when she surrounded his tongue with her mouth.

She pulled away and squeezed his hand. "Come on. I spent all day trying to get out of school. Don't wanna spend all night here when there's other things I could be doing."

"Such as?" he asked, putting his cup on the table as he quirked an eyebrow at her suggestively.

She smiled at him as they started over to one of her teachers. "I was thinking about a Bronze trip, to be--" She bumped right into someone, effectively knocking her hand out of his. Spike watched with mild interest as they both righted each other's posture, then he scowled when he saw who it was she'd bumped into.

Kenny scowled at her, his blue eyes travelling down and then up her body slowly, almost menacingly. "Watch where you're going," he snapped, then his eyes found Spike's. "Hi, Spike. How's it going?"

He clenched his jaw. Kenny's icy tone was not lost on him. Nor was the fact Kenny was no longer human. "Fine. You?" he drawled.

"I'm fine. Better than ever." He glanced at Kathryn in a way that made Spike's blood boil, and he grabbed her hand tightly. "What's the matter, Spike? Afraid I'm gonna start sampling the menu?"

"Back off, Kenny. This discussion was over weeks ago," she snapped.

"Oh, but baby, you know you wanna let me have a taste," he whispered darkly, stepping closer to her.

She put one hand against his chest and shoved. "I told you to back off."

He scoffed, then looked between them. "You two sicken me in ways you can't imagine. God, the very thought of you two together makes me wanna heave."

"Then don't think about it," she ordered coldly.

He scoffed as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoody, fiddling with something in there. "Just as well. I have a personal matter to attend to anyway." Kenny walked past her, slamming his shoulder into hers as he went, and Spike glanced over his shoulder to glare at his back.

"God, he's such a prick. He doesn't show up for weeks, then when he does, he thinks he has a right to talk to me like that? I hope Mister Paulson fails him."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows at Kathryn. Didn't she feel it? Couldn't she tell Kenny was a vampire? "He's been gone for weeks, and . . . you don't think that's odd?"

She sighed. "He does it all the time. Disappears for weeks then comes back lying about some stupid excuse or another."

"Um, luv . . . he's a vampire."

She stopped walking, then looked at him with confusion etched on her face. "What?"

"Couldn't you tell?" Spike looked around, trying to spot him, when something caught his eye. A flash of dark hair, a familiar voice in the crowd . . . He looked into the eyes of Gwen, the girl he'd waited with at the Fish Tank. She was standing by one of the exits. "Luv . . . something's goin' on."

"What?"

"Look. See her?" He pointed at Gwen. "I waited with her at the Fish Tank. Next morning? Found dead in an alley. She's standin' by the exit." His eyes swivelled around to the only other exit in the commons area, and he groaned. "An' look where our ol' pal Kenny is heading. To the other exit."

She sighed in exasperation. "Are you serious? They're taking over Parent-Teacher Night?"

"S'pose they are," he muttered, then furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. "Oi, they took my idea! God, stupid sods, can't even think of their own--" There was a loud crash from behind him and a loud chorus of screams. "Oh, please tell me they didn't just crash through the window."

"A few vampires just crashed through the window."

"Well, I knew that was coming," he muttered.

The students and teachers all started screaming. "Everybody, stay calm!" Kathryn yelled fruitlessly.

He turned around to see the intruders. When he saw who had crashed in through the window with a gang of vampires in tow, his couldn't do anything but stare.

* * *

A/N--sorry about the long update, but I've been at my mom's house, and there is no access to internet there, and apparently, no wireless either. But I managed to write a lot on this story, and I'm nearing the end. Updates should be regular now. Originally this was going to be a long, long chapter, but I split it into two. I adore "School Hard" and I'm telling you now, this is, in no way, an attempt to "make that episode better."


	34. Chapter 34

**Previously, on _As Good As You:_**

_She sighed in exasperation. "Are you serious? They're taking over Parent-Teacher Night?"_

_"S'pose they are," he muttered, then furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. "Oi, they took my idea! God, stupid sods, can't even think of their own--" There was a loud crash from behind him and a loud chorus of screams. "Oh, please tell me they didn't just crash through the window."_

_"A few vampires just crashed through the window."_

_"Well, I knew that was coming," he muttered._

_The students and teachers all started screaming. "Everybody, stay calm!" Kathryn yelled fruitlessly._

_He turned around to see the intruders. When he saw who had crashed in through the window with a gang of vampires in tow, he couldn't do anything but stare._

**And now, on with the fic!**

"Harmony?" he shouted. "Are you _bloody_ kidding me?"

Her head snapped in the direction of his voice, her long, blonde hair whipping extravagantly. Spike scoffed. She always had a thing of tossing her hair about more than what was necessary. "Oh, hi Spikey." She winced. "Spike, I mean. What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, ignoring the people who were running around and screaming hysterically.

"Taking over Parent-Teacher Night, _hello," _she revealed, walking over to him, sashaying her hips as she walked. Her gang of vampires ran into the crowd, snarling viciously.

Kathryn let go of his hand and charged at the nearest vampire, who looked to be a weak fledgling.

"Yeah, obviously! But _I_ did it first!" he shouted, shoving aside a vampire that had tried to attack him, quite pathetically.

"Well, duh! Where do you think I got the idea? Cordy told me all about it."

"You can't go around taking my plans!" he shouted, wincing when his pitch raised a few levels higher as he threw his hands up in the air. "That was a bloody masterpiece, and you're just ruinin' it! Are you _really_ that thick?"

"Yes, I am. No, wait--nuh-uh, I'm not thick! This was a good plan and _you're_ making fun of it!"

"It was a good plan when it was _mine_ you daft bint!" he shouted, then turned around, side-kicking that same vampire in the gut hard enough to make him fly backwards, hit the punch table, slide across it, and knock everything onto the floor, where he landed with a splash and a thud. He spun back around to face Harmony, who still hadn't vamped out and whose hands were still on her hips. "I know imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Harm, but do me a favour--stop trying to flatter me."

"I'm not trying to flatter you--I didn't even know you were going to be here! I just needed her, duh!" She took a step closer to him and poked him in the chest. "And by the way, bucko, my plan is gonna be way better than yours, because unlike you, I'm actually gonna get the slayer."

"Not bloody likely," he snapped, shoving her away from him and scoffing.

"And you're gonna stop me from taking your little girlfriend? Ew, I can't believe how whipped you are! I mean, Drusilla was one thing, but Kitty the vamp--"

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her to him, snarling angrily. "Kathryn," he corrected fiercely, ignoring when a vampire behind her erupted into dust, revealing Kathryn behind it. Kathryn turned around and started fighting the next closest vampire.

"Ow, ow," she whined pathetically, grabbing onto his wrist and trying to pull his hand away. "Let go, you're being mean!"

"Say her name," he growled, yanking harder.

"Okay, okay, Kathryn!"

He let go of her hair and pushed her away from him in time to knee a vampire in the stomach and uppercut him in the face, effectively knocking him onto the floor. At least she'd finally learned Drusilla's name. What was it with Harmony being able to pronounce simple bloody words?

She tossed her hair behind her and brushed off her clothes, looking around the room as if to make sure no one had seen her. Seeing as everyone was too busy trying to run to the exits and being fought off by Kenny and Gwen and her vampires were busy ganging up on Kathryn and charging at Spike, who casually fought them off with absurd ease, nobody had seen her pathetic display.

She huffed. "Fine, whatever. But let's just see whose plan is better when I'm dragging your screaming slayer girlfriend down the street."

Spike gave her the two-finger salute. "Get bent, Harm," he snapped, then threw himself in the middle of the gang of vampires that had gone after Kathryn.

Kathryn shot a brief glare in his direction. "About time!" She pulled a stake out of nowhere and tossed it at him. Where did her and Buffy come up with all those stakes anyway? She rammed her stake into a nearby vampire so that the dust swirled around her while she immediately started fighting another. "Ya done playin' around or can we get down to business?"

He blocked a too-wide punch from the newbie he'd decided to fight, then stuck his stake into his heart, yanking it out before he turned to ash. "Seems I'm down to business, luv."

"Good! I've got it covered here, so get over there and take care of the other side!" she ordered, ducking underneath a left-hook.

He nodded, then charged over to the other side of the room, clutching his stake in his hand.

* * *

Buffy sighed, looking around herself, checking for any signs that a vampire or demon was nearby. "So you got the whole schedule thing down, then?" Willow asked, brushing her red hair away from her eyes. "'Cause I know how you two were talking about it. Did you ever get around to it, or . . ."

"Will, that was a few days ago. Haven't really had the time. Besides, still kinda wiggin' that Spike's taking her to the prom. Or, well, she's taking him, 'cause she asked and did all the paying." Buffy sighed, then looked down at the ground. "Is it wrong that I'm jealous?" When Willow raised her eyebrows at her, Buffy rushed to explain further. "No, not because it's Spike, but because her vampire boyfriend _gets_ it."

Willow let out a breath. "Whew, ya scared me there for a second Buff. But no, it's not weird, I guess. I mean, Angel did show, didn't he? What's there to be jealous of?"

"Did you forget the whole dumping-me-in-a-sewer thing, Will?" she reminded a bit acidly. When Willow blanched, Buffy sighed. "Sorry. But still, even if Angel showed up, it wasn't 'cause we were going out. It was like a charity case. A big ol' charity case. He dumps me in a sewer, then shows up for a dance 'cause he wants me to feel better about it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he did, but still . . . behold the jealousy."

Willow nodded, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Nah, I get it. Who would've thought it, though? Spike, at prom? That's way up there on the weirdness factor. I mean, does he even _own_ a tux?"

"I don't know. Been kinda avoid-y with any Spike thoughts. But thankfully, I don't have to worry about bumping into him or Kathryn tonight 'cause of patrol. She's got Parent-Teacher Night."

"Huh?"

"Oh, it's no big. Kathryn called me and told me she wouldn't be able to patrol tonight. Apparently her bitch of a Watcher threatened to screw up her school records if she didn't take someone to Parent-Teacher Night, and so Spike's taking her."

"Wait, Spike's taking her to Parent-Teacher Night?" Buffy nodded, and Willow shook her head. "Well, isn't that ironic."

"Alanis, eat your heart out," Buffy grumbled. She eyed her best friend, watching as she kicked up dirt and bit down on her lip thoughtfully. "So . . . how's it goin' there? Haven't seen you much lately, and you said you had to tell me something. You've been avoid-y gal all night." Willow's fleeting glance only served to make Buffy curious. "Spill, Will. You've gotta a boyfriend or something?"

"Not . . . not exactly . . ." Buffy stopped walking and looked at Willow, whose green eyes refused to meet hers. Finally, Willow sighed. "You promise not to freak out? I mean, you gotta swear."

"I swear."

"You pinky-swear you won't freak out?"

Buffy put her hand on Willow's shoulder and squeezed. "I promise. Now what's going on?"

"Well, I've sorta been seeing someone--I mean, really, really heavy on the sorta, as in nothing's official. But it's just . . . we've got something special, you know? I can feel it, in the air, and-and when we're together, it's like . . . everything is so perfect. I just . . . I just can't help how I feel, and I don't want you judging. I mean, not that you would--it's just, it's kinda . . . a difficult situation." She shifted her weight onto her other foot and bit down on her lip.

Buffy's heart sank when a horrible idea popped into her head. "You're not dating Parker, are you?"

"Oh, no, no, I would never do that to you, Buffy."

"Angel?"

Willow shook her head. "No, not him either." Her green eyes finally met Buffy's and she let out a sigh. "Buffy, it's not--" Her green eyes slid past Buffy's face and focused on something behind her. "Oh my God," she whispered, blinking a few times. "Buffy, look."

Buffy turned and saw who Willow had been looking at. Her heart sank to the floor when she recognized the vampire not a few yards from her, tottering in the direction of the park. "Go. Run. Don't stop until you get to Giles's," she ordered.

"But Buffy--"

"Go," she repeated more harshly.

Willow looked hesitant. Her eyes locked onto Buffy's for a few seconds, her mouth partially opened like she was going to say something, then she nodded quickly, then turned around and headed off in the other direction.

Buffy walked towards Drusilla, who at this point had noticed her as well, and was smiling serenely. Buffy raised her stake and pursed her lips, tossing her hair out of her eyes. "Drusilla," she greeted when they were only a few feet apart.

"Hello, Buffy," Drusilla replied casually, as if they were old friends. "Hmm, it's been a long time. One hundred Fridays since we last spoke." She leaned forward slightly and Buffy raised her stake higher. "I was quite cross with you. You ruined Daddy's fun, and burned my boy to ash." She clucked her tongue and wagged her finger. "Very cross indeed."

"Fancy meetin' you here, Dru. You're supposed to be dead."

"Am I?" She cocked her head to the side and petted the side of her face, her wide, green eyes looking through Buffy as if she weren't there. "Daddy was ever so merciful, then," she conceded, perking up immediately. "He promised me cake."

"I'm talking about Kathryn. She said she staked you which is kinda funny seeing as you're here."

Drusilla nodded. "And she did. Right here." She slid her hand across her abdomen, and it was then Buffy realized they were circling each other. "Straight through, cut me quick. She burned me, see. All fire and spark, her. She thinks in here." She pressed her hand to her chest and furrowed her eyebrows. "You did once, too, Buffy."

"I'm sorry, were you getting inspirational? Kinda hard to understand, what with all the crazy talk." Drusilla did an odd growling bark that made Buffy shake her head and sigh. "Point is, you're not dead. Care to explain why, 'cause I'm kinda low on the info here."

"She lies," she stated, running her perfectly manicured nails across her red camisole, as if stroking an animal. "It's all scripted lines and talk. Whispers from the fairies, see. Faster than the eye can see--the hand is ever so quick. But the mouth is so much faster." She licked her palm then made a shooing motion with the same hand. "Words will only ever be just that. Strings of syllables and consonants. Can't see them, smell them . . . Just words. And often twisted and wrong."

"Yeah, kinda got the picture she lied, Dru. God, talk much? What the hell happened then? How is she still alive if you're still here?"

"She. Hid. Me," she said slowly, as if Buffy were an idiot child. "All dark where I was. Tight and dark and cold, 'til she came, and they set me free. I was to kill her, you see. But she threw liquid fire on me, and it burned. Tore at my flesh--blood and sinew and skin . . . burning water, _holy_ water . . ."

"She threw the water on you," Buffy stated, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She had no idea how Spike dealt with her for as long as he did.

She nodded. "And there I was, begging, and she had it here--broken wood. A stake." She rubbed her chest in slow circles, frowning slightly while she stared off at nothing. "But then her heart swelled. She knew my name. She knew my boy loved me."

"She . . . _could_ have killed you, and she . . . let you go . . . 'cause Spike loves you?" Buffy blinked a few times, trying to wrap the new knowledge around her head. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Li'l puppets on a stage, dear. She didn't know the lines," Drusilla hissed and snapped her fingers together. "It's your fault. Telling her my Spike was naught but broken dollies in the mud when he's ever so much more."

"What the _hell_ are you going on about? Do you know how to talk? 'Cause seriously, all I hear is blah, blah, blah."

Drusilla let out a long sigh and shook her head slowly. "Hurdling towards the finish line, Buffy. It was only a play. Two hours' time 'til it ends and she didn't even know. Thought I was new in my death and Spike . . . his heart beat in her ears. His blood was warm. She'd never felt it before. Heard his heart. Saw him breathe."

Buffy blinked a few times, trying to understand the words, but honestly, English had never been one of her better subjects and she really wasn't in the mood for Dru's crazy talk. "You know? Growing a bit tired of riddle me this and riddle me that. Guess I'm just gonna have to kill you."

She ran at Drusilla and went to punch her, but Drusilla ducked and blocked with her forearms. Buffy had to admit Dru was stronger than she looked, but she was an awkward fighter. She chuckled loudly when Buffy went to punch her but Dru swivelled her head out of the way just in time.

"Where's my boy now? No more games for him to play." She ducked underneath one of Buffy's right hooks and then grabbed her left wrist as it came in for a jab. She shoved Buffy away from her, giggling like mad. "Streamers and songs, my pet. All wrapped in texts and chalk. You think she'll last long there?"

Buffy ran at Dru and threw a few punches, but Dru stepped out of the way of each one.

"Schedules, Buffy. Every night you pass, and you think I can't find you?" Buffy took a few steps back and raised her stake, furrowing her eyebrows. Something about this was familiar. "Electricity travels, Buffy. Through here . . ." She waved her hand about, then pressed one finger to her temple. "And here. I can hear what she says to you, Buffy."

"Who told you that? The moon?" she asked mockingly.

"I want to take the slayer. Miss Edith is ever so lonely when I'm out."

"You wanna take the slayer? I'm right here. Take me."

Drusilla laughed again, the grin on her face really starting to creep Buffy out. "You're nothing like the sun, Buffy. Daddy's gone away and you're naught but dust in my sight. Far too long playing with your very own toys--hard for you to learn to share. But I know where to play. I know where to find her."

Buffy's heart started to sink.

"You think my boy will get nostalgic? Or have you dashed his brains out 'til the memories slipped? We are but clay and you've moulded him so--chop, chop, Slayer, before we smooth our clay into her."

Without knowing how she pieced it together, Buffy took off in the direction of the school, ignoring the haunting chuckles that echoed behind her.

* * *

Spike spun and kicked a vampire right in the chest even as the dust from the last vampire still surrounded him. The vampire stumbled backwards, then went at Spike, throwing a wide punch. Spike grabbed his fist with his left, hit him with his right. As the vampire stared at him, dazed from the last hit, Spike staked him, turning his head so he didn't inhale dust.

He glanced over at Kathryn, who was currently fighting three vampires, and he turned around, looking at all the people huddling against the wall while the vampires tried to take down either him or Kathryn.

He heard the footsteps behind him and he pivoted just in time to block a hit.

"Gwen," he said, feeling slightly unnerved to see her grey-blue eyes staring into his.

"And you must be Spike."

"Got me in one, luv. Don't remember tellin' you my name, last we met."

"You didn't tell it to me." She went to punch him, but he parried the blow easily. "You honestly think you can stop us?"

"You're daft if you think I'm gonna let you kill my girl."

Gwen laughed.

Spike punched her in the face, effectively making her shut up. "Somethin' funny, pet?"

She growled, her eyes flashing yellow as she slipped into her demonic features. "You," she answered, then went to kick him.

He grabbed her ankle and shoved her away form him. She staggered backwards until her back hit the wall. He stalked towards her, his upper lip curling into a sneer. "I'm funny? Look at you lot. Too pathetic to come up with your own plan. Did Harm tell you where she got the idea? From yours truly."

Spike blocked both punches she threw his way, then hit her in the face, making her head bounce off of the wall. "We knew she was gonna be here--we did the only thing we could think of. It's not like I knew you did it first," she told him. "Originally Kenny was just gonna show up with the chloroform and lure her away, but we didn't trust him."

"What, like you think that prat could kill her even if--wait, what?"

She laughed again, but this time she managed to hit him, his head snapping back fiercely. "You're such an idiot Spike," she managed through her chuckles.

"I'm the idiot?" He brushed aside a right hook then kneed her in the side. "You're the one who left your post."

Her eyes slide past him and at the exit she was supposed to be guarding, and he smirked when her eyes widened. "Eric! Eric, guard the exit! They're getting awa--" Spike backhanded her across her face, splitting her lip so blood smeared across her skin.

She glanced back at him, her yellow eyes glinting, and he grabbed a handful of her black hair, feeling an odd tug in his chest--guilt, he realized--and raised his stake.

"Dru sends her love," she taunted, an eerie grin spreading across her features.

* * *

Kathryn moved like it was a choreographed dance. Most of the vampires were either new or really crappy fighters, and so fighting them wasn't too difficult except they were on her like flies on dog crap. She often chanced a quick glance at Spike to see that he was giving it all and, by all appearances, having a wonderful time.

Kathryn had to agree. There was nothing like fighting a gang of vampires to send adrenaline pumping through her veins, and it really helped to get her frustration out, too. She rammed her fists into each vampire's face, ignoring the pain of when they retaliated, halfway hating the fact Spike made fighting the vampires look easier than it actually was.

When she noticed him fighting the girl that had been guarding one of the exits, she shoved Eric away from her with as much force as she could muster. She hurried over to her history teacher, pushing Harmony away from him. Harmony had been fighting her history teacher and, by the looks of it, she'd been losing. "Mister Paulson, get everyone out of here, the exit is clear--"

"Kathryn, it's her--I saw her, Gwen is--"

"Sir, listen to me! If you don't get everyone out of here right now, they are all going to die! Grab them and go!" she ordered, side kicking Harmony away again.

His grey eyes met hers and she noticed they were watering slightly. "But, you don't un--"

She grabbed his shoulders tightly. "Dammit, listen! You get everyone out of here, and I'll take care of the other exit. Do you under--" She turned around and blocked Eric's punch, hitting him across the face with her other fist, then kicked him in the abdomen. She spun back around and grabbed Mister Paulson by the arms. "Do you understand me? Get them out! I'll take care of the rest!"

He nodded sharply, then hurried over to the crowd of people.

She saw Kenny waiting at the other exit, and ran over to him. He barely turned to meet her and she slammed her fist into his face. The force of her throwing herself on him knocked him to the floor and she straddled his chest, repeatedly punching him. He growled and reversed their positions.

He was busy reaching into his hoody pocket and she took that moment to grab the collar and head-butt his nose.

He howled angrily and instinctively let go of her wrists to clasp his hands over his nose. She quickly twisted so that she was on top of him. His golden eyes widened as he reached for her throat, but she staked him before he could do anything. Kenny disintegrated beneath her and she stood up, dusting off her clothes and looking around herself.

Spike was clutching some girl's black hair and staring at her with his stake raised, but he wasn't doing anything. She didn't know what the hell he was doing, but before she could do anything about it, Eric grabbed the girl's arm and yanked her out of Spike's grasp. "Come on, we gotta go!" he shouted, then ran to the window they had crashed through. Him, the black-haired girl, and Harmony (who were the only remaining vampires, apparently) jumped out of the window, with the girl laughing.

She glanced over at Mister Paulson, who was still escorting some of the remaining teachers out.

She walked over to Spike, who still looked a little shell-shocked. The irrational anger she felt came back full force and she stormed over to him. "Did you and Harmony have a good talk? I sure hope it was fulfilling, I would hate to have interrupted anything that was so important you had to go on and on while vampires were attacking me and, oh yeah, everybody else, too."

He looked at her, a faraway look on his face. "What? Oh, right . . . sorry . . ."

She folded her arms, wincing when a sharp pain went through her side. The good thing about a fight was that she was often too preoccupied to feel the pain. The bad thing was that she felt it full-force when she was done. "Yeah, you'd better be. I know you don't have a soul, but the next time vampires start a massacre, could you maybe react a bit quicker?"

"Nobody got hurt . . . right?"

"No, because they were all attacking me." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Huh, that's kinda weird. Few dozen people running around in a blind panic and nobody thinks to taste? They all just went right for me . . . good thing they were newbies."

"They were after you. Just you."

"Well, yeah, obviously. I'm a slayer, they're vampires who aren't dating me . . . Obviously they were here to kill me. Still, you'd think they'd at least sample the--"

"Dru sent 'em."

Kathryn unfolded her arms and she felt the sharp pain in her side again. "What?"

"That's what she said. 'Dru sends her love.' That's how they knew you'd be here--they couldn't have known, you didn't even know you were gonna be here 'til earlier today--she must've known, she sent 'em--Harmony knew her name! Harmony never knew her name--bloody hell, they're working for her . . ." His voice cracked and he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "She sent 'em here . . . luv, she . . ."

Kathryn frowned, watching as Spike sniffed and pressed his hands against his eyes harder. "Spike . . ." She reached forward, touching his shoulder, and he jerked away from her. "Spike, you couldn't have--"

"It's my fault!" he shouted, lowering his hands and glaring at her. "It's all my bloody fault!"

She stepped forward, angry and hurt when he stepped back, his face scrunching up as small tears cut down his cheeks. "No, it's not. I let her live. I had the stake to her chest, Spike, not you."

"You wouldn't have done it if I hadn't gone on an' on about how much I loved her. You let her live 'cause of me, and now--I forgot, luv, I forgot she was here--and now . . . Now she's got pathetic flunkies doin' her work for her!" he shouted, going over and grabbing the table, tossing it to its side. Kathryn jumped when it clattered. "Harmony! Bloody Harmony's workin' for her! Sodding fledglings!" He kicked the overturned table and it skidded across the floor.

Kathryn stood there, shocked, when he yelled at the ceiling. She walked forward tentatively, placing her hand against his back, feeling the soft fabric of the thick, brown turtleneck against her palm. He spun around so sharply she gasped and jumped a little. A second later she was crushed against his chest.

He was holding her so tightly she felt her back pop and it was almost difficult to breathe.

"Spike . . . Spike it's okay . . . I'm fine . . ."

"I almost got you killed, luv, it's not fine," he whispered in her hair.

Kathryn didn't know what was scarier--the fact his ex had just sent a group of vampires to kill her, or the fact Spike was shaking as much as his breath was.

"Wait . . . chloroform," he muttered suddenly, nuzzling into the side of her face.

"Huh?"

"They said Kenny had chloroform." She pulled away from him. His blue eyes were searching her face as he delicately brushed her hair from her eyes. "They weren't . . . gonna kill you. They were takin' you to her . . . But why wouldn't she come an' get you herself?" Before Kathryn could say anything else, Spike scoffed and stepped away from her. "Good goin' Summers, really. Nick o' time. Don't know _what_ we would've done without you."

Kathryn turned around to see Buffy putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head to the side. "We're going to Giles's. Now."

Kathryn and Spike looked at each other, shrugged, then followed her. Spike grabbed her hand tightly and pulled her closer to him, and Kathryn couldn't help but feel glad at his suddenly protectiveness.

Then remembered that she hadn't gotten any of the papers she'd come for.

* * *

"Very good, kiddies," Drusilla said, clapping her hands together. "I think I've got my new family."

Harmony sighed and rolled her eyes. "That's great, Mortitia, but in case you didn't notice, most of your precious family died. It's just me, Eric, and Gwen left."

Drusilla tutted and shook her head. "You don't understand. Had to weed out the nasty dandelions. Eat away all the green. Daddy would be so proud--he taught me how to play with my toys well. Now we can make a new addition. Mummy's grown tired of her toys and wants to tinker with something new."

"We're not your toys, Dru. In case you forgot, it was _my_ plan, and it really kinda bombed."

"Hmm, the best of the best, cream of the crop, dears . . . I knew you couldn't take her, not with my boy there. I needed to know who I could take home." Harmony didn't like the way Drusilla was looking over her with a sneer on her face. "Although . . . I didn't care much for _your_ return."

* * *

A/N--I NEVER do the "previously on Buffy" thing, HOWEVER seeing as this chapter was supposed to be humorous, I thought doing that would, I dunno, fit the theme. Now, because you've all be good little poppets, I posted two chapters today. Seeing as it was supposed to be one, I saw no harm.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N--please note that the rating of this story had changed. There are reasons for it. I didn't just do it because I thought the letter looked cooler, poppets.**

Spike sat on the counter, legs swinging casually. He hadn't had a chance to change out of Rupert's nancy boy clothes yet, but at the moment, he was too lost in his thoughts to really care. It was his fault they'd been attacked at Parent-Teacher Night, After all, it was _his_ plan they'd stolen and _his_ ex that had sent them, and she was alive because of him. Although the attempt to take her had been laughable at first, now that he knew who was behind it, it was less so.

It didn't make any sense. Why would Drusilla send them to do her dirty work? If she wanted to kill Kathryn, why not show up herself? Why want them to take her to them? Surely she had known they were fledglings who didn't know their left hook from a roundhouse?

He looked around the room, noticing that everybody and their sodding dog was there. Buffy had been a right bitch ever since she'd found them at the high school, not that it was really that different from how she usually was around him, but recently she'd been pretty much ignoring him.

"Well, it was weird--they didn't kill anybody. In fact, they weren't even going after them so much as keeping them there. They were all just pretty much attacking me. Or hanging around the refreshments table, and Spike took care of them. Except for Kenny and some girl--they were guarding the exits. The girl got away, but I staked Kenny."

Xander smirked. "Wait, you killed Kenny?" When she nodded, he started laughing. When everybody looked at him with an eyebrow raised, he slowly stopped. "Wow, am I _really_ the only one getting the funny here?"

"We have more important things to discuss here, Xander," Buffy said harshly, stepping forward and folding her arms over her chest. "Like, say . . . Spike's ex, for example?"

"Harmony?" Xander suggested.

"Yeah, it was all her plan. She got away, though." Kathryn shrugged.

"Wait--Harmony got away? She's fights worse than I do. And that's pretty sad," Xander pointed out.

"No, not Harmony, his _other_ ex. I'm not sayin' any names, but it rhymes with ho-silla." Spike stiffened suddenly, then locked eyes with Kathryn briefly. "Willow and I saw her during patrol. Kinda funny, since she's supposed to be dead, don't you think, Kathryn?"

Giles whipped off his glasses and started wiping them, and both Xander and Anya were staring expectantly at Kathryn. The silence dragged on awkwardly, and Spike was starting to suffocate. He wanted to leave. He wanted to grab Kathryn and drag her from the house so she wouldn't have to answer the question. It was pressing around him, the silence, knowing it was his fault, knowing they were judging Kathryn because of him, and knowing just how cruel the Scoobs could be, even to their own--so why would they be any kinder to Kathryn? He'd seen how they'd neglected Willow when she was in pain.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Kathryn spoke. "I hid her," she revealed quietly.

"Ding, ding, ding, Kathryn, you won the damn the jackpot," Buffy deadpanned, stepping closer. "Obviously you hid her. But that isn't what you've been going around telling everyone is it? Kinda funny--I distinctly remember you telling us all you killed her."

Kathryn shifted her weight onto her other foot and Spike casually slid off the counter, with every intention of grabbing her and making her leave. "Well, of course I did. You think they would've let me go if they knew she was still alive?"

"You lied to us," Buffy snapped, as if that made such a bloody difference. "Your friends."

"You're not my friends, Buffy. You don't even like me," Kathryn spat, lip curling in a snarl. "So yeah, I didn't tell you."

"Why didn't you do it, Kathryn? Why didn't you kill her? Why did you hide her? Tell me!"

"That's none of your damn business, Buffy!"

"Because Spike loves her? Is that it? You let her live because of him, didn't you? God, I can't believe this! He's a _vampire_ Kathryn! You honestly think he gives a damn about you? How stupid can you be? He would've killed you to save her, and you--you let her live for _him?"_

"I didn't know he was a vampire when I did it, did I? And leave him out of this--it was my decision, not his! And he didn't even know, anyway. He had no idea," she lied.

Spike was grateful she managed to throw that in, but when Buffy shook her head, he knew she wasn't buying it. "You know, I really, really doubt that. Kinda funny, don't you think? He knows you killed his ex, and he what? Welcomes you with open arms? Spends all his time with you? Please, Kathryn. If he thought she was dead, he would hate you. I thought it was weird he was so cool with it. I guess now I know why." Buffy took a few steps closer to Kathryn, glaring threateningly at her. Spike didn't care much for the way Buffy was staring at his girlfriend. He wanted to rip the bitch's throat out. "I can understand Spike lying--he's a soulless . . . _thing._ But you?"

Kathryn scoffed. "What, and like you would've said anything? 'Oh, by the way, I didn't kill Dru, I just hid her.' Yeah, right."

"Every person she kills is on your shoulders," she said coldly.

Kathryn took a few strides closer to Buffy, so that they were nearly face to face. "And everyone Angelus killed is on yours," she retorted waspishly.

Buffy shoved Kathryn suddenly and she hit the back of the couch.

"Oi! Don't touch her!" Spike snapped, striding over to Buffy, anger flaring up in his chest and burning him.

Before he could punch the slayer's lights out, Kathryn put her hand on his chest, preventing him from doing so. Neither of them stepped away from each other and continued glaring, with Kathryn pushing both of them away.

Spike finally stood back and shook his head. "Whatever. Sod off, Summers, and same goes to your precious Scoobs." With that, he headed towards the door, grabbed his duster, and slid his arms into it as he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

He made it several feet away when he heard an explosion of yells. He heard Buffy and Xander and Kathryn, all yelling, but he was far enough away to block the actual words out. It was a good thing too, because he knew if he heard anything scathing in regards to his girlfriend, he was going to burst in there and do something to get his invitation revoked.

He paced and smoked, keeping an eye on the door, and forcing himself not to move closer and listen to the words they said. He kept blowing out the blue smoke, pacing quicker and scowling even more when he heard Giles enter the fight. He sounded calmer than the others, and his voice was a dull murmur compared to the loud baritone of Harris and the shrieking yells of Summers. If Willow was saying anything, she was talking too quietly for him to hear.

Finally, when he was nearly done with his cig, the door opened and Kathryn stormed out. She wiped away the tears form her face and when she saw him, she slowed to a stop. He tossed his cigarette to the sidewalk and started over to her. "You all right? What did they say?"

"Um, just that I was immature, not fit to be a slayer . . . That sort of thing," she mumbled.

"What, and _Summers_ is? Her boyfriend went around snappin' people's necks, an' did they ever once tell her off? No, it was all 'there there, Buffy, would you like a sodding biscuit?' Sod them! You don't have to listen to them, luv."

She scoffed. "I wasn't dating Drusilla. It's a bit different with Buffy than it is with me."

He grabbed her shoulders and held her, forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me. Don't let them try an' tell you Buffy's better than you are. You're just as good as she is. It's just like her to get all shirty when you do the same thing she does, all right? I'll admit, lettin' Dru live wasn't the smartest thing, but if she woulda done it, nobody would've batted an eye."

"But I'm not as good as she is, Spike! She never would've done that! Buffy was _in love_ with Angel! She _killed_ him! I _didn't_ kill Dru and I don't love her--I don't even know her. I did it for you! And just because she did something similar doesn't make it right, anyway! They're right, Spike, I'm a crappy slayer!"

"You know what this is about, luv? This is about her, bein' all jealous, an' tryin' to be the bloody mother hen. She's always gotta be top, in charge, and she needs to learn that she isn't the only one anymore. She can't stand the fact that she's not the only slayer, not the only one out there killin' vamps, an' she just wants to be in charge. Don't let her get to you--you made a mistake, fine. Not like she hasn't made plenty."

"No, Spike. She's right. Everyone she kills is on my shoulders."

Spike growled, then grabbed Kathryn's arms, holding her still. "No, luv. Everyone she kills is on _her_ shoulders. Drusilla's. She's to blame; not anyone else. Don't let them get that bullocks in your sodding skull where you somehow control everythin' she does. She chooses to do it, not you, so she's the only one to blame. Listen--you messed up, yeah, but they have no right lettin' you have it like they did." He gestured at the house with his left hand, still holding onto her arm with his right. "They're just tryin' to rile you up, 'cause you're an inconvenience. They don't want you here--they only want their precious Buffy, and they're gonna tear you down 'til you leave."

She pulled out of his grasp. "Spike, quit tryin' to make them out like assholes! Yes, they can be, but the point is, I screwed up, and we both know it! You can't make this go away by making them into the bad guys!"

"Yeah, an' them yellin' at you and tellin' you you're a horrible slayer isn't gonna make it go away, either."

"Well I have to do something to make it go away, don't I?" she shouted back, flinging her arms up into the air. "This is my mistake and I have to fix it. I shouldn't . . . I shouldn't have let her live. I should've just staked her."

For some reason, the brief silence after that was incredibly awkward.

Kathryn shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Um . . . do you think that if . . . if I had killed her, you and I . . . do you think we'd still be together?"

Spike stood there for a second, then scuffed the sidewalk, looking down at the cement. He wasn't stupid, and he wasn't going to act like he thought Kathryn was either. He looked back at her, but only for a second before he had to look away. "No. I don't think I would've ever forgave you," he answered quietly.

He expected her to walk away. He would have.

"Then . . . Then I don't care. I'm glad I didn't do it." He glanced at her and saw how serious she was by the way she held her jaw still and her chin tilted upwards slightly. He managed a small smile. She took in a small breath, then looked downward. "So . . . wha . . . what do I do now?"

Spike shifted his weight onto his other foot and refused to look at her. "You should . . . You should prob'ly kill her." He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, hating the fact that he'd said those words aloud.

He felt her hand on his arm and he looked at her, and he saw how her eyebrows were lifted upward, and the small frown that marred her face. "If I do, then . . . what about us?"

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He didn't have an answer. He stared at her, and saw how her eyes were starting to mist over, and he felt a harsh tug in his chest. "I don't know," he finally settled.

She nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "Then . . . then we'll find her, and we'll tell her to leave town. Move somewhere. Away from here."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. "She'd still be killing, luv. Just not in Sunnydale."

She looked downward. "Spike, you're the first person I've ever . . ." she trailed off, and lowered her head more. "This is the first time I've ever been happy," she whispered a few seconds later. "I don't wanna lose you. I'm selfish; I know it. I can't . . . I can't lose . . ." Her voice broke. Spike felt a slightly aching feeling in his chest then. She looked up, and he saw more tears rolling down her cheeks.

He brushed a tear away with the back of his fingers, then swallowed the lump in his throat. "Kathryn, I . . ." He brushed away her hair and stared at her face, at how the moonlight shone on her skin, and then he swallowed again. The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to say them. Instead, he just leaned forward and kissed her, trying to somehow show her what he wanted to say through his kiss.

He pulled away and stared down at her, still holding her face. "I'll walk you home," he offered when she didn't say anything, but stared at him with her brows furrowed and head tilted.

* * *

Kathryn ambled up to the porch, her fingers still threaded through his. The porch light was on, but there were no cars in the driveway, and she remembered that Kyle and her dad were at work. She wondered if Amber was going to drop by, but figured she wouldn't see as they had training tomorrow and that was when her watcher had asked her to give her the papers that Kathryn hadn't had the presence of mind to grab whilst being attacked.

"So this is you, then," he stated unnecessarily, looking at the door. It was the first thing he'd said since they'd started walking to her house.

Kathryn nodded. "Yep." It had been extremely awkward while they walked, even though they were holding hands. Grabbing his hand had made her feel a little less tense for a few minutes, then all the nervousness came back. She wasn't stupid--she knew why it was awkward between them suddenly, even though they were usually completely comfortable with one another.

They turned to face each other, and it looked like Spike was in pain for a brief second. "Right, so . . . Uh, what about Amber? She's not gonna . . ."

"Oh, no, she won't drop by. I'm supposed to give her the papers tomorrow. I don't actually have the papers, but I'll think of something. And, um . . . I told them not to tell her. If she finds out, then . . . Well, it wouldn't be good, so I told 'em to keep their mouths shut."

He nodded, reaching forward and grabbing her other hand so he could hold both of them. She looked him over, noticing how awkward his leather duster looked over the clothes Giles lent him. He was staring down at both of her hands, running his thumbs over her knuckles. For once, she was staring at him, and he wasn't looking at her. Normally it was her who was shy.

After a few seconds his eyes flitted upwards and met hers, and she thought they looked a bit watery. Before she could dwell too much on it he looked back down at her hands. The issue with Drusilla was hanging over their heads, the tension because of it almost tangible. She knew he was thinking about what she should do, and she was thinking about how horrible of a person it made her for not wanting to do it. Letting Drusilla leave town unscathed was letting a mass murderer have free reign, just not around her, and all because her boyfriend was still in love with her.

It was sick. It was beyond that--it was so wrong it was making the bile in her stomach rise slightly. Any other girl would be saddling up to kill her, if not because she should, but because her boyfriend still cared about her. Instead, Kathryn was so afraid of losing him she would rather let Drusilla go. How pathetic was that? There was no guarantee that her and Spike would last forever, that he was "the one" or whatever Buffy thought Angel was, and she'd only known Spike for four months, and she was willing to let people die (albeit indirectly) because she was so afraid of losing him.

She had to be the worst slayer ever.

"Um . . . so, uh . . . where you going after this, then? Back to Giles's?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Nah. Too hostile. Prob'ly find some crypt to shack up in for the night."

"Um . . . Well, I mean, if you want, you could . . . stay here. For awhile. I mean, unless you don't want to," she stammered, feeling her heart start to beat faster. She hadn't been so nervous around him for ages.

His eyes met hers again, and this time, he didn't look away. His eyes searched her face for a moment, like he wasn't sure she meant it, but then he nodded, pulling his hands out of hers. "Yeah, sure," he said in an off-hand way as he shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal, but she knew him enough to know that he was just posturing.

She opened the door and stepped in, turning on lights as she went. She turned on the living room light and plopped down on the couch. Spike took off his leather duster and folded it over the arm of the couch, then sat down beside her. He put his arm around the back of her shoulders like he normally did.

Even though they were acting as they normally did, she still felt uncomfortable, and she could tell he was too because he kept tapping his foot quietly.

She grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, switching through the channels until she found an action movie that looked decent. She watched it for awhile, snuggling closer to Spike, hoping that it would make her feel better, but if anything, it just felt like she was curling up against a stone wall. It brought no comfort; only more tangible awkwardness.

"Mind if I smoke?" he asked randomly.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him, eyeing his too-casual expression. If she hadn't known for a fact he was feeling nervous before, she would have figured it out then, because Spike never asked if he could smoke. He'd smoked in her house dozens of times before. "Uh, yeah," she said, pulling away from his shoulder so he could get his smokes comfortably. She'd been leaning into his left side, and she knew he smoked with his left hand.

She watched him start sifting through the pockets of his duster, which was folded over the arm of the couch, and when he pulled out his pack, a piece of paper fell to the ground.

She bent over and picked it up. "Hey, what's this?" she asked.

Spike was too busy searching for his lighter to look over and see what she was referring to. "What's what?"

"I don't know, some paper that fell out of your pocket," she told him while she started to unfold it and he pulled out his Zippo.

"Now, what were you say--" he began, holding the lighter to the cigarette that dangled from his lips. His eyes moved from her face to the paper that she held in her hand. He leapt at her so quickly she shrieked and jumped backwards, falling off of the couch. He landed on her with a thud and all of the air left her lungs.

"Gimme that!" he demanded, reaching for her hand that was still clutching the paper.

"God, fine!" She thrust it into his hand, staring at him incredulously as he sat up so that he was straddling her waist. He stuffed it into the pocket of the khakis. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he inquired casually, as if he hadn't just attacked her to grab a piece of paper.

She half-sat, so that she was resting on her elbows. "That. You freaked out over the paper. What was it?"

"It was nothin'," he said with a shrug.

"No, really, why'd you freak out? No offence, Spike, but I don't really like being tackled randomly. Tell me what it was."

"It was nothin'!" he exclaimed, his pitch raising a few levels.

"Dammit, Spike, what the hell did you attack me for, then? For the fun of it?" she snapped angrily.

"Fine! Fine! It was a stupid--if you're so bloody--I don't even--" he spluttered, reaching into his pocket then tossing it at her. "Read it, see if I care, you're so bloody curious, fine."

She glared at him. "Fine, I will."

"Go ahead."

She unfolded it with a flourish and pursed her lips at him, sitting fully so that he had to lean back and rest on her knees.

_Dark brown eyes burn through me--_

_She always stares so curiously._

_A thousand nights all in black_

_But light is something she doesn't lack._

_She should burn me to my core_

_and she does; but I want more._

_I've never felt a girl so sweet_

_Kathryn is a tasty treat._

She read it two times over, then looked up at Spike, who was chipping off the paint on his fingernails a bit too casually. "You . . . you wrote this?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's just . . . just scribbling . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's--it's not very good, I just . . . didn't want you . . . I didn't want you thinkin' I was a ponce . . ."

She smiled a little bit, then handed it back over to him. "So, you attacked me 'cause you didn't want me thinking you were a ponce?"

"Well, they didn't call me William the Bloody for nothing," he muttered as he folded it back up. He glanced at her, then sighed. "William the . . . Bloody Awful Poet." He stood up and walked back over to the couch.

She stood up as well, dusting off her clothes. "You . . . You used to be a poet?"

"I use the term loosely," he grumbled as he plopped down on the couch.

She went over to him and sat beside him. "Come on, it's not that bad."

He raised his scarred eyebrow at her. "I called you a tasty treat, Kathryn."

"Okay, so it's not . . . Shakespeare material, but . . . well, I _am_ tasty," she said with a smirk. He chuckled quietly, but he still couldn't look at her. His head was bowed and he focused on the paper. She searched her mind for something to say, but she couldn't think of anything. "It's not a big deal, really. It's just a poem."

"No, you--you don't understand . . . It's not . . . I thought that if you saw it, you'd . . . never mind." He shook his head and slid deeper into the couch, as if trying to disappear into the cushions.

Kathryn got the feeling she was missing something; something important. It was like walking into the middle of a play or picking up a book and skipping several chapters ahead. "You thought I was . . . what? Gonna laugh at you?"

He remained quiet.

"Dump you?" she suggested tentatively.

"Just drop it, yeah? It's nothing."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow at him. She knew she shouldn't ask. She knew she should just shrug and act like the whole thing hadn't happened. But now she was curious--now she wanted to know what the big deal was. "Am I missing something? Is this about the bloody awful poet thing or . . . 'cause you're kinda acting--"

"Look, I told you, I wasn't a good poet; that's it, that's all there is to it. Got made fun of a lot growin' up an' I don't need you adding to that now, all right?" he snapped, turning his head away from her.

"I wouldn't make fun of you. I think it's sweet." He scoffed and shook his head, rolling his eyes. He stared back at the folded piece of paper. "I really do."

He shook his head again. "It's not sweet. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. After all the bloody--you know, I was a dangerous man, once. I tore open throats without a second's hesitation, and I told myself I wouldn't ever--that I would _never_--that William was dead, and I wasn't that--that pouf, an' now here I am, settin' myself up, actin' like a miserable--" He cut himself off, then shook his head.

She tilted her head at him, then put her hand on his shoulder. "Spike, you're not a . . . a pouf, whatever that is, and you're definitely not pathetic."

"Look at me, I'm even wearing nancy-boy clothes borrowed from a retired librarian. I've gone soft. There's no . . . no way lookin' around it. I'm nothing. I'm just . . . take away the killing, an' I'm _him_ again. Back to bein' some pathetic sod rhymin' under my breath to write 'bout some girl who deserves better."

Kathryn frowned. Spike was . . . depressed. It was really unnerving her. Spike didn't get depressed. Spike got angry. Spike ranted and paced and kicked inanimate objects and yelled, but he did _not_ brood. "No offence Spike but the 'not-killing' thing isn't really a bad thing from my point of view."

"You deserve better. It's 'cause of me you were attacked tonight, an' you're gonna send her off--which, don't lie, I know you hate yourself for that--because of me, an' I'm actually . . . bothered by it. Don't get me wrong I don't want Dru to die, but you deserve someone who can cheer you on."

"Um, is this about the poem or Drusilla, 'cause I'm a bit lost."

He shrugged. "Dunno. Prob'ly both."

She couldn't think of anything to say to that. She understood the Drusilla part of the situation, but she still wasn't understanding the poem bit. "Spike . . . about Dru . . . I know you love her. And I'm not . . . I'm not gonna kill her, because I . . . I don't wanna . . ."

He glanced at her. "Lose me?" he finished for her.

She nodded, and she felt her throat clog up. She opened her mouth to talk and an odd croaking sound came out. She closed her mouth, let out a sigh, then raised her jaw confidently. "I love you," she stated, her voice shaking a bit. He turned his head to her and blinked. "Like, _in_ love . . . with you."

He opened his mouth to say something, then narrowed his eyebrows at her. His mouth worked wordlessly again, then he shook his head. Her heart was weakly hitting her ribs, like it was failing--like, at any moment, her heart would just give out. Why wasn't he saying something? Why had she said that? Could she take it back? Could she pretend she hadn't just thrown her feelings out there in front of him to be obliterated? He sat forward and straighter, then cocked his head to the side, just looking at her like she'd said something incredibly strange.

"I gotta--" she started, her voice wobbling, and she realized she didn't have to do anything, so she just stopped talking and stood up off of the couch.

He grabbed her by the elbow and she turned back at him, her breath shallow. He was still staring at her, his brows knitted, and his head tilted. He tugged her gently back into a sitting position and her breath shook.

"You love me?" he asked, his voice so quiet she barely heard him. "Even with--with Dru an' . . . an' the poem? The really awful poem?"

Suddenly, looking into his eyes was too much for her. She quickly looked ahead of herself, wishing that she hadn't spoken at all.

She felt his lips on her cheek and that calmed her nerves a bit. His lips barely left the side of her face before pressing against her jawbone lightly. She turned a little towards him and his lips grazed her chin, and her stomach swooped. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip and then drew it into his mouth.

She turned her head fully towards him so that she could kiss him more comfortably. His lips were gentle against hers, different from how he usually kissed, and then he pressed his brow against her forehead, holding her shoulder and running his hand down her arm. She could hear the fact his breath was just as shallow and shaky as hers.

He kissed her again, and again, and the third time she pressed against him, deepening the kiss. It was slow, and lazy, and with each careful stroke of his tongue against hers her stomach flipped pleasantly. She put her hand against the thick brown turtleneck, feeling the fabric against her palm, wishing that he was wearing his black t-shirt because she could feel his skin through that, but not through the sweater Giles lent him.

Her body was warm, almost too warm, and he wasn't close enough. Her hands slid up his chest and around the back of his neck, feeling his cool skin on her palm before she slipped her fingers into his messy hair.

She felt his hand go into her curly, brown hair and he moaned into her mouth when she pressed her chest against his. Her body thrummed with electricity when he made that noise and she whimpered quietly. She felt a warmth pool in her lower regions.

He moaned louder, and suddenly the kiss was harder than before, and they were pressing against each other repeatedly. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she groaned, and he pushed her onto her back. It was far more comfortable lying down, and yet somehow that made their kisses more energetic.

He laid his body on top, one knee wedged between hers, and made a noise that was somehow a mixture of a grunt and a growl, and that made her body throb with want so intensely that she arched against him.

They were both moaning and grunting repeatedly, and she thought she might have heard him mumbling, but she didn't hear his exact words. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the fabric uncomfortably scratching her wrists and palms, and she wanted to feel his cool skin--it was too hot; her body was overheating.

Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own volition, partly because it was more comfortable and partly because she wanted something pressed against her centre, which was throbbing. He pulled away from her, gasping, and she realized she needed to breath. They kept moving against each other while they breathed in each other's air, and her eyes opened to see that his were still closed, his forehead pressed against hers while he moved his hands so that they were on either side of her head.

"Say it again," he whispered harshly, his voice almost disappearing into her open mouth, and she felt his lips brush over hers when he talked.

"I love you," she said, then lifted her head and pressed her tongue into his mouth.

Her hands slid under his shirt, and his skin was cool just like she had expected; just like she wanted. She ran her hands up his back while he kissed her fervently, and she arched against him, pressing herself against his hardening groin, and when the tiny swoop of pleasure filled her, she scratched her nails down his back.

He arched his back, which forced his mouth away from hers and thrust his pelvis against hers roughly, and she let out a loud whimper that might have been a scream, but the pleasure that rocked through her prevented her from making an educated guess. She ran her nails down his skin again and got the exact same reaction, only this time he pressed against her harder.

He lifted himself up so she could stare up at his face. His jaw was set determinedly and his blue eyes were dark and fiery, and he started thrusting against her rhythmically. She could feel his growing bulge slamming against her, forcing her pleasure to climb higher and higher into her stomach. She continually scratched down his back, loving the noises he made when she did that.

He pulled away from her and she whined, reaching for him, her legs still secured around his waist while he bucked gently against her, and he whipped the brown turtleneck off fluidly and tossed it away. As soon as his shirt was off, he was pressing against her again, his whole body grinding hers, and she ran her hands over his smooth back, murmuring his name while his thrusts became more insistent. She ground her own pelvis against his, trying to get some satisfaction from the aching, burning desire between her legs.

She was hot but his body was cold, and his tongue invaded her mouth almost violently, and she kept grinding against him, forcing his hardness against her repeatedly. She heard nothing but breaths and moans and half-spoken words, and she was whimpering, and his hands were cold against her stomach. She realized a little later than she should have that his hands were up her shirt, but it felt wonderful.

He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away, and then he greedily sucked on her mouth. His cold chest against hers somehow burned her.

His lips were against her throat, his tongue sneaking tastes of her skin, and it was pleasantly cool. Hastily he kissed down her abdomen, and dipped his tongue into her navel. He was no longer pressing his manhood against her core, and she missed it, until he sucked on her flesh beside where her pelvis bone was, and she groaned loudly, arching her back.

He was whispering her name against her skin, and she felt his hands working on the button of her jeans, and then on her zipper, and suddenly, cool air hit her. She looked up and saw that he was tugging her jeans and panties off, pressing his lips down her thigh and legs until he tossed them both aside.

She tilted her head back when she felt his hands massaging her inner thigh, close to where she wanted him to touch her. His kisses were warm and wet and trailing up her legs, and she knew what he was going to do, but nothing could have prepared her for how it felt.

His tongue flicked across her clit, and she arched again, pleasure shooting up her spine. He circled it, teasing her, and she kept bucking and whimpering with each swirl. His slow, tortuous licks around her folds made her whimper and babble and buck, and his cool hands started massaging her breasts through her lacy bra. Her nipples were hard and each time his thumb ran over them she took a shuddering gasp.

His tongue delved inside of her and she nearly screamed at the sudden burst of pleasure that nearly rocked through her whole body. She was thrusting her pelvis against him each time she felt his tongue swirl inside her, gliding across her insides, making her moan.

She was repeatedly moaning his name, and she was clutching her hair, bucking and gasping each time, the pleasure mounting and growing with each second. His teeth dragged across her clit and she very nearly saw stars. Her toes were numb, her legs were shaking, and she was gasping and whimpering so loud if her mind hadn't been preoccupied on other things she would have worried about being too noisy.

His mouth was gone, and she whined, missing the pleasure, until he started kissing up her abdomen again, suckling her flesh, and his cool hands slid across her skin. She grabbed his jaw and forced his head to hers, impatient, and kissed him hungrily. She could taste herself on his lips, then his finger started rubbing her swollen nub hastily and roughly. The pleasure that had started to fade started to build again at an alarmingly high rate, and she tilted her head back, gasping. His was kissing down the side of her face, dragging his blunt teeth against her skin, sucking and nibbling where she knew her jugular was.

One finger plunged inside her and she made a noise that sounded like a squeak while that finger rhythmically thrust in and out of her. His calloused thumb massaged her clit, shocks of pleasure moving through her body, intensifying with each second, and he bit harder into her skin, his tongue trailing along what she knew was her vein.

"You can bite me," she managed between her gasps.

He growled, and suddenly she felt fangs in her neck, tearing at her flesh, at the same time his finger pushed against something inside of her roughly, and pleasure exploded through her like fireworks. The pain faded from her mind as bursts of lights flashed before hers eyes, her orgasm sudden and powerful and rolling through her. Almost as soon as she hit her climax she started falling, waves of it crashing over her, bringing her back down, until she felt an overwhelming peace overcome her.

His finger was no longer inside of her, but his arms were wrapped around her, his tongue still lapping up the blood. She winced slightly when his tongue ran over the wound, but it didn't hurt too much.

His pelvis was still rocking, albeit gently. He pulled his mouth away from her neck and kissed her, the coppery taste of her blood still on his mouth. She felt his fangs scratching against her lip, but not hard enough to break the skin, and she was still in a lazy afterglow of her orgasm.

Never breaking their kiss, she turned delicately, getting a knee in her side as she did so, so that he was now on his back. She pulled her mouth from his, and his yellow eyes roved over her body. Suddenly she felt nervous, leaning above him in only a bra. She went to cover herself and felt her cheeks burn, but then he grabbed her arms and shook his head, pulling her down into another kiss.

She pressed her lips down his chest, suckling a little bit on the side where she knew he was sensitive and he bucked. She scraped her teeth along his skin a little, then she looked at the bulge in the front of his khakis.

She undid them, and his cock sprung free. She'd seen it before, but it hadn't been hard then, but resting against his thigh. Now it was large and she briefly wondered how the hell anyone ever had sex--no way could that ever fit inside her. Swallowing nervously, she gently licked the head and he groaned. Taking that as an incentive, she wrapped her mouth around the length and started lifting her head up and down, trying to massage him with her tongue.

She felt his fingers threading through her hair and heard his low, guttural moans. She kept sliding it in and out of her mouth and tried to keep her lips over her teeth; she'd heard somewhere that guys didn't like teeth.

She went down as deep as she could and he bucked violently against her and growled. She repeated that move several times. She kept going, moving her head faster and faster, feeling his length harden even more while he grunted and clutched her hair.

"Baby, I'm 'bout to--" he began, but interrupted himself with a loud grunt and a forceful thrust.

His cock thrust deep into her throat and she nearly choked, and suddenly something warm filled her mouth. It was salty and it didn't taste very good, and she knew he'd just cum. Oddly, though, it didn't taste as bad as she would have thought, and she swallowed, only to have more fill her mouth, so she swallowed again.

She pulled away and sat back on her knees, watching his chest rise and fall quickly. He was still vamped out, but she wasn't sure if he was aware of that. She wiped her mouth and stared down at him.

She looked down at the fact she was still only wearing her bra, and she looked around the living room to find the clothes he'd tossed aside. She got dressed, turning her back to Spike, feeling embarrassed again. Now that she wasn't in the throes of passion, she remembered that she'd been very vocal when she'd orgasmed, and that her body had flaws everywhere, and perhaps she had a little too much hair between her legs, and what if he didn't think her body was pretty? What if she hadn't been good?

When she was fully dressed, she turned back to face him, brushing her slightly damp hair from her eyes. He was sitting again, his pants done up, and looking at her. She couldn't really tell what his expression was because he was still vamped out.

"Was it okay?" she blurted, unable to stop herself, and she wrapped her arms around her abdomen.

He nodded and tilted his head to the other side. He had some blood smeared along his bottom lip, and she remembered that he'd bitten her.

The throb in her neck returned and it actually hurt whereas it hadn't before. Well, other than when he first bit her, but she figured her orgasm overrode the pain.

She touched her neck, realizing it was on the same side that Drusilla had bitten. She removed her hand and saw a little bit of blood smeared on her fingertips, but not much.

He stood up and started walking to her. He didn't stop until he was in front of her, and he brushed his knuckles down the side of her face. "You okay?" he asked, his hawk-eyes moving to the bite wound.

She nodded, then reached up, wiping the leftover blood from his mouth. "Yeah."

He grabbed her wrist to hold it still, sucking the blood off of her finger. He blinked rapidly a few times, then his vampire face slid into its human features. Even now that he looked like a human again, she still couldn't tell what his expression was--it was soft, and his eyes had an odd sparkle in them, and he had a tiny smile as well.

She smiled back at him nervously, then smelled the familiar odour of sweat. "Oh, uh . . . I gotta shower," she muttered, embarrassed.

He blinked a few times, then stepped away from her. "Right. Yeah. I'll, uh . . . be here when you're done."

* * *

A/N--Right, so, this was the first smutty-ish scene I've ever written. Also, I want you all to know that it was intended to be slightly awkward afterwards. This was originally going to be two seperate chapters, but they fit together so well I made it into one.

If you are curious, the reason I didn't actually write the Scoobies arguing with Kathryn is because we all know the characters, so writing it felt redundant. I'll let you guys fill in the blanks.


	36. Chapter 36

Spike couldn't stop pacing. He gotten dressed, looked through her fridge, and finally decided to try to watch the action flick on the telly, but nothing eased his mind. As soon as they'd finished up on the couch, she'd practically jumped off of him and had to take a shower. Shower? Why did she need to shower? Did he upset her? Did she regret it?

"Shouldn't have done that," he grumbled, pressing his fingers to his temple. Of course she was upset. He'd bloody pounced on her without even asking! What if she hadn't been ready?

"Seemed to be responsive," he mumbled to himself. "General regret, then."

Why did women have to be so confusing? First they wanted it, and then afterwards it was all tears and babbling incoherently about some vicar who whacked her with a cane for making an inappropriate joke about Jesus. All right, so maybe with Kathryn it wouldn't be about the vicar, and Drusilla had only went off on him a few times, but still.

Did Kathryn regret it? He sure as hell didn't. She didn't sound like she was having a bad time of it, either. She was loud. Spike liked loud. And she didn't babble on during her climax, either. Well, he wouldn't have minded conversation, but Dru had had the habit of going on about random things that he couldn't comprehend as she was having her orgasm.

It was Dru. Of course Kathryn had been upset. He'd been talking about Dru right before.

Or was she upset over the poem? He had attacked her after all. And now she knew he was a ponce; why would she stay with him?

Why did she need to take a shower anyway? Maybe he should just leave . . .

No, how the hell would that look? "Right, Spike, get up an' go--yeah, girls don't like that, do they? Bloody hell, maybe she wants me too . . ."

He sighed, then got off the couch and started pacing again. He paced for few minutes before he heard the shower shut off, and her moving around upstairs. It wasn't long before she came back downstairs, and when she stepped into the living room, she smiled at him, and her cheeks went pink. "Hey," she greeted, then looked at the ground.

Spike nodded at her, and stuffed his hands in the khaki pockets. "Are you mad at me?" he asked randomly.

She looked at him and tilted her head. She looked downright sexy with her hair wet and straggly, framing her face, and wearing silky yellow pants with a matching tank top. "Huh? No, why would you think that?"

"Oh. It's just . . . you took off."

She walked closer to him. "Huh? When?"

"Uh, just now?" he reminded.

She blinked at him, her big, brown eyes reminding him of a doe for some reason. "Um, you mean when I took the shower? Spike, I smelled funny."

He blinked a few times. "Oh . . . right. I thought . . . I thought that you . . . uh, regretted it."

She made a noise that was a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, then went over to him. "You're such a geek, Spike. No, I just smelled like . . . um, well, BO and probably . . . um, fluids." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest. She hummed a little, and Spike wrapped his arms around her, smiling.

"Well, you took off, so I thought--"

"Did I suck?" she inquired.

He pulled away and raised an eyebrow at her. "There's a lot I could say to that, luv . . ." he said, making sure innuendo dripped off of every syllable, "but you were great."

"Oh, good. Good." She put her head back on his chest. "You know, you can take a shower too, if you want."

"That your subtle way of tellin' me that I--"

"You smell fine. It's probably a vampire thing." She pulled her head away and furrowed her eyebrows. "Do vampires sweat?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Course we do."

"Then how come you don't smell? Well, I mean, you smell . . . you smell really good . . ."

"Well, I shower, luv."

She pulled her head away form his chest. "So do I! But I still smelled, and--"

He chuckled. "No, pet, listen--it's not the sweat that you smell. It's, uh, fungus that breeds when you sweat."

She blinked. "Oh. Ew. So . . . Vampires don't grow fungus?" she asked tentatively, and her nose crinkled in disgust slightly.

"Not as quickly, no. So those vamps you fight that smell? They're not showerin'. Ever."

She chuckled and scrunched up her face--he couldn't tell if she was disgusted, or amused. "That's so gross. I'm so glad I fell for one that showers."

And there it was.

She loved him.

Spike didn't really want to admit it, but her saying she was in love with him affected him. It made his world stop, and something warm fill his chest. He knew Drusilla had loved him, but not nearly as much as she had loved Angelus. He had spent over a century trying to top the git, and still, when he came back to the fold she tossed Spike away like an old newspaper, or a favourite toy she'd grown tired of.

But Kathryn looked at him and loved him like he was the only man in the world for her. Just like how he used to be with Drusilla, and he realized and remembered just how powerful first love could be. Cecily had been right torture. Drusilla had been worse.

He hadn't felt so bloody happy since he'd been engaged to Buffy. Luckily for him, it wasn't a spell this time.

"Um . . . you don't mind, do you?"

"Mind what?" he asked, brushing away her damp hair.

"That I love you."

He scoffed. "Now why would I mind that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, you were with Dru, and Harmony, and they're . . you know. Pretty."

"You're gorgeous," he told her, then kissed her forehead.

The door burst open and Kyle ran into the kitchen. When he saw the two of them together, he visibly relaxed. "Oh, good. You're fine."

"Uh . . . yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Kathryn asked, pulling away from Spike and brushing her wet hair from her face.

He blinked. "Um, well . . . I was at work, and the news came on." Spike glanced at the clock--it was about ten-fifteen. Had it really only been two hours since the attack? "They said something about Parent-Teacher Night being attacked again, and I just came home. I told my manager that you were there. He understood."

"Oh, yeah. Harmony. She wanted to kidnap me for . . . Y'know. Evil vampire stuff. So . . . what do you mean again?"

Kyle's hazel eyes flicked over to Spike briefly, but he didn't say anything.

Kathryn looked at Spike, and he shrugged one arm. "Yeah. Sorta have a thing for big grand entrances. I'm a bit of an attention-seeker. It's a problem."

"You attacked Parent-Teacher Night?" she asked, one eyebrow raising upwards.

"Yeah. Gave Buffy one hell of a fight--she almost lost too, right as I was 'bout to bash her face in, but her mum stepped in and whacked me upside the head with an axe, so I took off." Off Kyle and Kathryn's look, Spike got defensive. "Oi! Her mum's bloody scary!"

"So . . . Harmony stole your plan?" Kathryn said slowly. Spike nodded. "That's really lame. You slept with her?"

"Sad to say."

"Kathryn! Oh God! Are you okay?" Kyle shouted loudly, running over to her. He was quite a bit taller than her, so to see him leaning over and peering at her with concern etched on his face was a bit funny. "I'm gonna kill her!"

"It's okay, really. I mean, she sucked. And--and I don't even care that Spike slept with her." Kyle put his hands on her shoulders, his eyebrows still lifted up and his face paling. "Okay . . . So it bugs me a little. She's really stupid."

"She bit you!" Kyle exclaimed.

Kathryn frown, and Spike winced inwardly. Well, this was about to get awkward quickly. "Huh? No, she didn't. What are you--" She blinked. "Oh. That was just Spike." Kyle removed his hands from her shoulders, and looked between them. "We were making out, and I said he could bite me if he wanted."

Kyle nodded, then shifted his weight onto his other foot. "Oh. Right." He nodded at Spike. "So, uh . . . If you don't mind, I'm gonna . . . get back to work." He took a few steps back, then cleared his throat. "Sorry to have, uh . . . interrupted your . . ." He made an odd gesture with his hands, then cleared his throat. "Later."

Kyle quickly left the house.

Kathryn and Spike looked at each other, then both burst into chuckles.

* * *

At first, Kathryn wasn't quite sure she'd done the right thing. A part of her worried Spike had just done the guy thing and had exploited the fact she loved him into getting into her pants, and then a part of her worried that he was going to up and leave her, and another part worried that she hadn't been very good. Or that the noises she'd made were annoying and funny-sounding. Or a multitude of other self-esteem blows.

But he hadn't left. In fact, after Kyle had gone back to work, they'd cuddled on the couch, talked a bit, then when she started nodding off Spike grabbed her hand and led her to her room.

She plopped down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite Spike's tough-guy Big Bad exterior, he really was a decent guy. No, better than that--a good man. Hell, he even had a poetic side to him. Granted, a really crappy poetic side, but Kathryn really couldn't say much seeing as poetry had never been one of her strong suits, either.

Spike tucked her in, making sure she was fully covered with her comforter, before he kissed her on the forehead. "Night, pet," he muttered, before leaning up and walking towards her door.

Kathryn half-sat. "So . . . Uh, where you goin'?"

He shrugged. "Caves, maybe. A crypt. Not to Rupes' place. Too bloody hostile at the mo'. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Sure the Watcher will have calmed down by tomorrow."

"You could . . . spend the night. With me." She patted the mattress, and her cheeks burned. "In here."

Spike stood at the archway of her door for a moment, then his grin lit up his face. "All right." He shut the door.

She scooted over to the right side of her bed and lifted her comforter. Spike crawled into the left side and covered himself up. They faced each other, and his grin faded into a gentler smile. He reached forward and brushed her slightly-damp hair from her eyes and she snuggled deeper into her mattress. He held the side of her face and tilted his head into the pillow.

Kathryn didn't know what was going on in that head of his, but she didn't mind not knowing. Whenever he looked at her with the soft expression, he looked so different. In the darkness, he almost looked like someone else. Someone younger; happier. Not so hardcore and badass.

He ran his finger over the nape of her neck; the side that was unmarred. "Normally I bite the right side. I lean in left. Your right. Had to cover Dru's mark, you know."

She frowned. "I thought you said there wasn't a Claim. Is there a Claim? What's a Claim, anyway?"

Spike chuckled softly, still trailing his calloused fingers over the side of her face. "There wasn't a Claim. To be honest, luv, all a Claim is, really, is a soddin' class ring." She had no idea what he meant by that, and it must have showed, but he continued. "You know . . . a symbol. A wedding ring, maybe. You know, that you belong to someone. It's not like that sodding romantic bullocks where I say you're mine, and you agree, and then we're linked with feelings and you'll feel deep pain if you're not with me, or you have to do what I say . . . Nah, it's not like that. Just . . . a sign. That you've been bitten. So, either you've got a vampire boyfriend, or you survived an attack."

"So . . . biting over my mark was . . ."

"That mark was out o' violence. Couldn't leave it on you," he told her.

She looked at his neck. "Did Dru bite the other side?"

"Vampire healing," he told her, brushing her hair away. "'Sides, the bite wasn't too violent. Gentle-like. Bites don't always leave scars--'specially if not done viciously. And when you're lookin' to sire, usually not vicious. Those scars, pet? From someone who wasn't lookin' to keep you living."

Drusilla. Every single word he spoke echoed with her name.

"She almost killed you," he whispered. "An' I . . . helped. To think, I almost missed out on . . . I could hate her for that, you know. Had I missed this. 'Cept I wouldn't have known, obviously."

She tilted her head into his palm, and he started stroking her cheek. She touched his face gingerly, her fingers trailing over his cheekbone, then over to his lips. She touched his soft flesh, then he nipped her fingers gently. She smiled, then he pressed a light kiss to the palm of her hand, then gently bit her wrist. She hummed a little, and he pressed hot kisses up her arm until his lips found hers, and kissed her deeply, but slowly.

When he pulled away she kept her eyes closed for a minute, then she opened them to find he was staring at her like he always did.

"You know, for a bad ass, you're kinda sweet," she whispered.

He shrugged the arm that wasn't pressed to the mattress. "Guess so. Let's just keep that to ourselves though, yeah?"

* * *

Waking up with Spike's chest pressed against her back and his arms wrapped tightly around her was a perfect way to start a day. She remembered the last time they had fallen asleep together, and realized that it had been the day of her test--when she still thought he was human. It seemed so long ago, now that she thought on it.

When she'd woken up Spike had been asleep, which made sense since it was sunrise. She knew that he had probably stayed awake long after she turned onto her other side and he'd put his arm around her, and it made her smile, knowing that he stayed with her even though he could have gone and done something else.

A part of her felt a little disappointed when she realized she would never see him in the daylight, but it was a small sacrifice to make. When she woke up and had to nudge her way out of his grasp without waking him, she'd turned to see his peaceful face while sleeping, and she thought it was adorable.

Luckily for her, most of her teachers were giving out the slips she needed because of the attack. Most of them recognized her from fighting the vampires off, and thanked her profusely. At least she wouldn't have her graduation screwed up.

When she made it to her last class of the day, History, she smiled at Mister Paulson, who met her eyes in a different way than he usually did.

All throughout class, his eyes met hers. Normally her teachers looked over the crowd and only looked her in the face when she was answering a question, but she couldn't help but notice how his eyes always ticked to hers. It was eerie. He'd never really seemed to pay any of his students any more attention than any other, so she wondered if it had something to do with how she'd fought the vampires the night before. Most of her teachers had gone out of their way to say something, but after that, it was all said and done, and they acted as they normally did.

When he asked to see her after class, she knew something was up.

"Hey," she greeted when all the students left the room. She'd taken her time gathering up her stuff so that she would be the last one there. He looked at her. "You asked me to see you after class," she said, as if he needed to be reminded.

"Yes . . . I did," he muttered distractedly, then handed her the slip of paper she needed. "You . . . uh, didn't get it last night."

She nodded, carefully taking it from him.

"She died, you know."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"My daughter."

She nodded. "Yeah, you told me once. I'm sorry." She really didn't know what else to say, and she almost cringed when she realized how apathetic her voice sounded.

"Gwen. That was her name." He nodded once. "She . . . called me Randy."

She furrowed her brows. "That's, uh . . . kinda . . . huh? Why would she think you were . . ." She grimaced slightly.

"My name, Kathryn. My _name."_

Suddenly, she wasn't so disgusted anymore. "Oh . . . Uh, yeah, sorry, my boyfriend's English, so I thought . . . never mind."

"The man you were with last night. The one who . . . who almost, uh . . ." He scratched the side of his face. "They _were_ vampires, yes?"

"Wow. Yeah. You're the first person who--I mean, you'd think someone would've--but no, they didn't even think." She was impressed. For some reason, people in Sunnydale were really stupid and never pieced together that something was seriously wrong with the town they lived in.

"Yes, well, none of their dead daughters were there, either," he spat.

Kathryn blinked, and finally, it clicked--a bit slower than it should have. "Oh . . . Gwen was your . . . Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Um, she got away. Don't worry."

He looked at her, and she saw his eyes shimmer. "You think I . . . I wanted her to . . . She's not my daughter anymore. She called me _Randy._ She wasn't--she was some . . . _thing_ pretending to be my daughter, and I--" His voice cut off, and then he looked down at the table. "Look, I don't know what's going on, or why you--you knew just what to do, or why your boyfriend let her live . . . But that's not my daughter. I just wanted . . . wanted you to know that."

She shifted awkwardly. What was she supposed to say to that? The man had just found out that his dead daughter was a vampire. "I'm sorry," she repeated, but this time, she meant it.

"Why didn't he kill her?" he asked, and she heard his voice break, and then he held his head in his hands.

She knew the truth. Gwen had told him Dru sent her, and that made him stop. But she figured it was okay to lie. After all, it would be half-truth anyway. "My boyfriend saw her the night she died. Before she . . . Before she was killed. Um, they talked. He liked her. Thought she was cool. She was a good person. Nothing like . . . like the demon pretending to be her now. It just threw him off, is all."

He nodded, but kept his hands pressed to his lids.

She shifted her weight onto her other foot, suddenly realizing just how awkward the situation was. "I'll, um . . . I'll go now," she muttered, then quickly left the room, hearing a loud sob before the door shut completely.


	37. Chapter 37

Kathryn had all her papers ready to give to Amber. Everything was in order. There wasn't a damn thing Amber could do about it, either. She couldn't threaten to screw up her graduation. She was used to Amber's threats, and now she knew that Amber wasn't really much into the idle ones. She would have to start playing nice.

Well, nicer. No way in hell was she going to be a lapdog.

Still, despite what she knew about Amber, she still hadn't expected the greeting she got when she stepped into Amber's house to hand over her papers and train.

She'd announced her presence, and as soon as she stepped into the living room, her wind had almost been knocked out of her. Amber threw herself onto Kathryn, wrapping her arms around her so tightly she was sure it would have caused her pain if not for the fact she was a slayer.

"What the hell?" Kathryn greeted in confusion, her arms resolutely by her side.

Amber pulled away, her grey eyes wide. "Oh, Kathryn, I saw the news this morning--about the attack on your school--and I thought--well, I didn't know, and when I called your house, nobody answered!"

"Er, yeah. The morning news is at nine. I was at school, and everyone else was asleep."

Amber shook her head. "Had you died, it would have been my fault! I forced you to go, Kathryn! Some bloody Watcher I am!" She kicked the nearby couch.

Kathryn blinked.

Amber cleared her throat, then turned back to her, and her face immediately become the composed mask it usually was. "Yes. Well. Obviously, you are fine. Back to business."

Kathryn stared at her, still confused. She had no idea what the hell just happened. "Well, um . . . Personally, uh . . . You shouldn't worry about me. I'm a slayer. I kill vampires. So . . . I'm not mad at you for that. I'm mad at you for threatening my education. If you wanna throw a fit over how much of a horrible person you are, think more on that."

Amber shuffled for a second, and Kathryn would have thought she was awkward with the situation, but then she nodded. "Yes, well . . . I had to make sure your education meant as much to you as you _said_ it did. Obviously, if you were able to retrieve your papers and fight off demons, then you are . . . adept and . . ."

Kathryn tried to thrust the papers into Amber's hand, but she knocked them away, and pulled her into a hug again.

"O . . . kay . . . ." After a few seconds of yet another awkward hug, Kathryn cleared her throat. "Yeah, I don't really like you enough to hug you, Amber, so could you back off?"

Amber did so, then brushed off her clothes. "I . . . I apologize. It's just . . . I thought that I had somehow caused your death . . . You didn't answer the phone when I called, and I . . . I was worried."

"You . . . worried about me?"

Amber shrugged, but it oddly looked very elegant. "You are under my care, Kathryn. I won't go down as yet another Wyndam-Pryce."

Kathryn shook her head. "Okay, um, Wyndam-what?"

"He was a horrid watcher. Graduated in my class, but he skipped a grade. All books, but no real experience. Eager, had all the rules memorized--they thought he would be a fine replacement for Rupert Giles. That his youth would make Buffy and Faith more accepting, and far less likely to develop a paternal relationship with him. I told them that he was too . . ."

"What? Did he fall for them or something?"

She sighed and turned away from her. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce may have been a good watcher, were it not for his own . . . personal issues. As much as he would tell anyone otherwise, it was no about taking care of a slayer for him, so much as proving to his father that he was . . . worthy. The two of them had a strained relationship. He cared more for pleasing his father than anything else--his focus was not on either of them, but his father, and it caused Faith to become rogue, and forced Buffy to . . . dispatch of her."

Kathryn sighed. "Right. You were worried about how my death would make you look. Not about me."

Amber turned back around. "What did you expect, Kathryn? I barely know you. It's not as if I can become close with you. It only complicates matters. Do you understand why they sent me? I'm young. Chances were that you wouldn't make it. An early death won't look so bad on my record, but it certainly won't make me look good. I need to prove to them that not all young watchers are as horrid as Wesley. That _git_ is more concerned with family affairs than his own life. He is more concerned with the fact his precious father is highly respected and that he constantly belittles him. His problems were his own, and had nothing to do with his age, and I will not have Wes completely destroy my reputation, do you understand me? You don't even try to act as though you care for my well-being--why should I lie to you? Of course it was about me."

Kathryn wanted to argue, but she realized she had a point. Why else would she be upset? "Yeah, well, still, you wonder why I don't like you when you go off on stuff like that."

"Yes, well . . . It doesn't matter now. Let's get on with the training. Obviously you need more practice if vampires can get that close to you," she said in an off-hand way, turning towards the punching bag that hung from her ceiling.

She gingerly touched her bite mark. "That was from Spike, you bint," she grumbled, knowing damn well she'd just used a Spike-ism.

Amber stiffened, looked back at Kathryn and stared at her neck for awhile. "I thought he couldn't harm humans?"

"Well he wasn't trying to hurt me, was he?" she snapped.

"And . . . he managed to stop? The bloodlust didn't control him?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, he tore out my throat and I'm actually dead."

Amber blinked a few times. "He is a very odd vampire," she muttered, then gestured at the punching bag. "Let's begin our training."

As usual, training seemed to breeze past her. It was boring. Training didn't even interest her. She didn't know what it was about Rupert, but he somehow made training seem like something worth doing. She punched and attacked the swinging punching bag without really thinking about it, instead choosing to think about Spike, and how he had made her feel on the couch last night.

Kathryn had never understood why people cared so much about foreplay or sex, even. It had never really interested her. Why would it? She could masturbate if she wanted to get off. But now that she'd had someone else please her, she could see why everyone liked doing it so much. It was the same with kissing--she had never understood why people did it so often, when really, kissing was simply two lips touching. She had never understood why it was fun until she did it. She'd been curious, but she hadn't thought it would be as fun or pleasurable as it had been. And giving a blowjob wasn't nearly as bad as she expected it to be.

She was aware of the fact Amber was circling her, and when she glanced at Amber, she got the feeling that she was just as bored. Her eyes were glazed over and she often looked past Kathryn, or mumbled something so quietly Kathryn couldn't hear it. After awhile, she realized Amber was actually humming, and every now and then words to a song would slip out, but she couldn't place where she'd heard it before.

"Are you singing _Blame Canada?"_ Kathryn asked finally, lowering her arms and staring at her watcher incredulously.

Amber stopped walking. "What? No." She cleared her throat. "If you _must_ know, I _was_ singing _Kyle's Mom's A Bitch."_

Kathryn was quite sure she'd misheard, but after a few seconds realized she had not, and after remembering some of the notes Amber had been humming, realized she was right. "Oh. Well . . . Huh. I didn't know you . . . watched _South Park."_

Amber cleared her throat. "Yes, well, this has nothing to do with your training. Continue." She waved at her dismissively.

"Okay, you're just as bored as I am. You know, Rupert made me do other stuff than punch bags. Sometimes, he made me throw balls at him with my eyes closed. Or he'd let me spar with him--well, not spar so much as hit him while he had these large pads on his hands." She frowned at a particular memory. "Or a large, puffy Sumo-suit."

"I'm counting the ways that could go disastrously," she muttered with an eye roll. "And who are you to say that I am bored?"

"You're humming songs from a cartoon."

Amber shifted. "Yes, well, it's not as though watching you punch inanimate objects is highly entertaining."

"So I didn't peg you as a _South Park_ fan. Who's your favourite?"

Amber looked between Kathryn and the punching bag. With a sigh, she shook her head. "Garrison. You?"

"Kyle," Kathryn answered.

Amber furrowed her brows. "I suppose I rather like him as well. They all have their strengths. I like them all, really. Sometimes it varies between episodes. Garrison is such a horrid teacher." Although what she said about Garrison was rude, she said it with fondness and chuckled lightly. "It amazes me the four of them aren't completely stupid; what with the idiocy that is their town."

"That's why it's funny."

They both nodded, then Amber sighed. "Go on, Kathryn. I know you'd rather be elsewhere. I have nothing for you to do. I'll think of different training for next time." Kathryn turned to go and started towards the door quickly, but Amber stopped her. "Your brother--who does he like?"

Kathryn looked back at Amber. "Cartman, naturally."

Amber raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Of course."

Kathryn shook her head, still confused by Amber's slightly odd behaviour. She grabbed the doorknob and went to turn it, but then she realized something. She turned back around to see Amber trying to take down the punching bag from the ceiling.

"You called him Wes."

Amber turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "Beg pardon?"

"At first, you called him Wyndam-Pryce. But then you called him Wes. Seems a bit . . . close. Were you two . . ."

Amber sighed, then stood up straighter, as if she were about to start lecturing her. "If you must know, Wesley and I were, at a time . . . romantically involved. However, I grew tired of his obsession with proving himself to a man who would never appreciate him as anything other than a waste, and I realized he was beneath me. I told him as such."

"You told him he was . . . beneath you?" When Amber nodded, Kathryn scoffed. Once again, Amber was showing humanity, and then turned it around and reminded her what a bitch she was. "Right. Well, then, no offence, but it seems like you have the same problem he had . . . just not with your dad." Amber's face fell. Kathryn smirked, realizing that her comment really had made sense, even though it had been meant as an insult and not friendly insight.

* * *

Buffy knew she should have been over it, but for some reason, it really, really unnerved her. Willow, although she had been upset with Kathryn the day before, was now starting to sympathise with her. Buffy knew that she should have calmed down, but if anything, she was just as upset as she had been when she'd first seen Drusilla tottering around the park, waiting for her.

"I mean, what the hell was she thinking? A vampire! Not just any vampire, but one as dangerous as Drusilla! You can't just . . . let psycho vamps trying to kill you free 'cause they used to date your crush! I mean, does she _have_ a brain?"

Willow shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I dunno, Buff. I mean, I get why it's wrong, and I agree that she should have killed her, but it's not like Kathryn knew Drusilla was . . . well, she didn't know that she was different. From other vampires, I meant. More dangerous. And . . . and, well, it's not like she knew Spike was a vampire, either. I'm not saying she did the right thing, but--but I think we were a bit harsh on her. I mean, she's new at this."

"New or not, it's still a very basic, very simple description. Vampire slayer. She who slays vampires. We're not vampire free-ers, Will," Buffy stated, thinking over how 'harsh' Willow had been the night before. Her voice had risen a little, but mostly she stepped in to prevent the arguments from getting too bad, and tried to convince everyone to use the 'I statements' instead of the 'you statements.'

"No, no, I definitely, definitely get that, but . . . but, I mean, can't you remember how hard it was for you when you were still new at this? I know that was before you met us, but--but even then, you know, your first year in Sunnydale, you were having problems. You wanted to quit, remember? You didn't even patrol or any of that stuff."

Buffy remembered how hard it was for her to accept Merrick or her destiny at first. She remembered how she'd thrown her duty over her shoulder after he died, and how she just wanted to pretend none of it was real. Pike had knocked reality upside her head for awhile, but after her parents' divorce, she had come to Sunnydale with the intention of only killing a vampire if she came across it.

"Well . . okay, I'm not saying I've been the perfect slayer . . . If I had to pick a perfect slayer, I'd have to say that was Kendra, and look at what happened to her. Drusilla happened. And yeah, I get that she didn't know Dru was as dangerous as she is, but that shouldn't have mattered."

Willow fidgeted as Buffy tossed her stake between both hands in frustration. "Buffy, um . . . I agree with what you're saying, I really do . . . But maybe, do ya think, um, that you're . . . reacting a bit more strongly than necessary . . . 'cause of other reasons?"

Buffy froze. What was wrong with Willow? Willow was supposed to be her best friend, and here she was, getting all Psych 101 on her? What kind of friend was that? "Excuse me?"

"Now, don't get mad . . . but, um . . . I kinda have noticed that you're a little . . . harsh with Kathryn. I mean, even before now. I can't help but think that maybe this has less to do with Drusilla, and more to do with Spike and y'know the jealousy factor."

Buffy blinked. "Huh? Okay, I know I didn't just hear you use 'Spike' and 'jealousy' in the same sentence in regards to me. Because that was all a spell, and that was months ago. And I have a boyfriend! A very non-Spike, non-evil boyfriend who actually cheers me on when killing vampires."

"I didn't mean in that way. I know there's nothing between you and Spike besides mutual hatred and dislike." Willow scuffed her feet on the ground, then looked at Buffy with that cute-but-worrisome scrunched up face she always used when she was going to say what Buffy didn't want to hear. "I just meant--Kathryn's a slayer, she has a vampire boyfriend . . . and she saved a vampire who killed, y'know, a friend. Kendra."

"Your point?"

Willow sighed. "Buffy, think for a second--would you be half as angry with her if it had been, say, um, Miss Vamp McRandom? And if she wasn't going to prom with a guy who's, um . . . kinda evaded the whole you-kicking-his-butt thing?"

Buffy didn't have time for this. "What she did was wrong. What I don't understand is why everyone but me is all jumping on the Poor Kathryn Bandwagon. When I hid Angel from you guys, it was all I heard about. When Angelus was still around, it's not like I didn't hear about it non-stop."

"That's not fair, Buffy. When Angelus was around, we all supported you. When we found that disc, I was the one who put the spell together. Yeah, Xander got a bit snappy, but Xander didn't even like Angel when he was Angel."

Buffy scoffed. "Oh, and you didn't tell Xander to tell me to kick Angel's ass, either."

"What? I never said that."

"Please, Willow. Xander told me what you said when you were off makin' with the magick at the hospital. Nice, friendly message there."

Willow shook her head. "No, Buffy, listen--I _really_ didn't say that."

It took a Buffy a second to realize what that implied, and then sudden anger towards Xander filled her chest. "Oh, when I see him next, he is so dead."

"This doesn't change the fact that I think maybe the situation is hitting too close to home for you to, y'know, be objective about it. Yeah, you're right, she did something stupid, but . . . but don't you think maybe you're internalizing it a little bit?"

Buffy knew she was right, but she didn't really feel like admitting it. "Point is, she did it all for a guy who can't even love her. Even if he could love--_without_ the help of a spell," she added quickly when Willow looked like she was going to speak, "he wouldn't love her. He loves Drusilla. I mean, it's the whole reason she didn't stake Dru!"

"I don't know. Maybe Spike's different. I mean, who's to say you have to love your girlfriend--um, boyfriend--right away? I mean, you didn't love Angel the first time you saw him, did you? And I think Spike can love. I mean, yeah he's evil and he has a big nothing in the conscience department, but you saw how he was with Dru. You can't tell me that wasn't love."

Buffy sighed, then shook her head. "Look, Will, I appreciate the whole let's-look-at-this-objectively-psych-101 stuff, but can we skip over that? I kinda wanna rant."

Willow nodded. "Okay. Rant away," she said.

Buffy opened her mouth to do just that, but realized the fire was gone. Willow's little spiel had pretty much sucked away her steam.

"Nah. Maybe let's just head to the cemetery. Hopefully Kathryn won't show up. Man, we really need to work on that schedule. Besides, wherever Kathryn is, Spike tends to pop up and you know that just leads to him irritating me."

Willow shrugged beside her. "Tends to happen. Speaking of boyfriends, how is Riley? Anything new?" Willow asked, in a tone that let Buffy know she was asking if they'd had sex yet.

"Um, not so much, no . . . it's just, after Angel, and then the stupidity of me jumping into bed with Parker . . . I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. I mean, he's a nice guy, and he's all into the demon-y hunting thing, so we can relate, but . . . It's just, he's seems so nice and normal . . . and I really, really like him . . . But then again, so did Angel. And Parker, too. Well, except for the whole 'demon-y hunting thing' obviously."

"I understand. If you're not ready, I won't push you."

Buffy frowned. "Hey, what about you? You were mentioning a little love interest. So, who's the lucky guy?"

Willow fidgeted. "I think maybe this is a topic better suited for, um, a different time. When you're not all . . . you know. Irritable. It's a kinda touchy subject."

Buffy frowned, not really understanding why the subject would be touchy unless it involved one of her exes, or she was doing stuff with Xander again, but she figured there was a reason Willow wanted to wait, and a good one too.

* * *

Kathryn stalked through the cemetery, her stake held high. She looked around at all of the gravestones, searching for any out-of-place shadows. She breathed as quietly and slowly as she could, and stepped even quieter. The tingles on the back of her neck told her there was a vampire nearby, as did the slight churning in her gut.

She felt a hand on her arm and she spun, her stake poised. He brushed the stake aside casually and blocked her punch easily. She stared into Spike's bright blue eyes, then took a step back. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. What if I had staked you?"

"Know all your moves," he said with a careless shrug. "'Sides, wanted to see if you were on the up-and-up."

Kathryn smiled at him. "So, what did Giles have to say?"

"Not so much mad at me," he answered evasively. She knew that tone.

"Ah. But mad at me."

"Yep. Best you not go 'round the likes o' them for awhile, you want my opinion. He ranted at me a bit, said he expected lies from me, but . . . well, won't bore you with the details."

Kathryn sighed. She knew what the details were, and she was glad he was keeping them to herself. "I really am a crappy slayer."

"No, you follow your own rules. Way it should be. Seems to be that's why Buffy's been alive for so long," he pointed out, and she smiled at him. "How'd training go with Amber?"

"Weird. She was all upset 'cause she thought I was dead and that would make her look bad. She's got some issues with an ex-boyfriend. Or something. To be honest, I was just trying to insult her. But it worked. She's trying to show off--be better than this Wesley guy. She came off as all superior. You know, like she was better than him, but really, she was making the same mistake as he was. He was trying to show up his dad, but she's trying to show him up. I don't know. I've been thinking about it all day. It's just weird that she's, y'know, dated someone. That she has, like, a life."

"Well, she's a looker, I s'pose," he said in an offhand way. "Bit of a bitch, though."

Kathryn laughed. "I called her a bint."

Spike smiled, then playfully punched her arm before the two of them fell into step beside each other, walking through the cemetery casually. "That's my girl. So, what, he tossed her aside, then?"

"No, actually. She dumped him because he was trying too hard to show his dad he wasn't, you know, a waste, and then she told him he was beneath her. That's why I got a little pissy. I mean, again, she was coming off as almost human, and then, pow, she reminds me what a bitch she is. Can't you break up with someone nicely?" She looked at Spike, expecting an answer, or some insight. He was staring at the ground, his brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"She said he was beneath her?"

"Yeah."

He scoffed. "She really does deserve a good kick in the teeth."

"Poor guy. Did you know him?" she asked, catching onto the fact she had struck a nerve with him, but not knowing why.

"Nah. Just . . . no need for that," he muttered. She frowned. Spike turned to her, his face suddenly impassive. "Wanna spar?"

"Okay. You keep a hold of the stake, though. Don't wanna accidentally . . . y'know." She tossed it to him, and he put it in one of his pockets. "Where does Buffy hide those things, anyway?"

"Up her arse," he said with an evil grin.

She tilted her head. "There's room up there even with the stick shoved up it?"

"Baby . . . this _is_ the stick."

It occurred to Kathryn it had been a long while since the two of them had sparred, and they fell into the routine easily. He swung wide and a bit slower than he usually did, and she didn't put as much force behind her punches. If they made contact, it was brief and gentler than usual, but enough to keep her competitive. She did notice how he reeled his head back and clenched his teeth in pain every now and again because of the chip, but it didn't offend her--she had no idea how on earth he even managed to fight her without intending harm. She knew that if she had a chip in her head, it would be going off too.

His smile never left his face and his eyes sparkled. Their laughter echoed back at them, as did the sound of their fighting. When Spike did a jump-kick off of a crypt, Kathryn copied him, throwing herself at his body with a punch he easily dodged.

"Missed by a mile, baby," he told her with an air of smugness that annoyed her about as much as it made her swoon inwardly.

"Your hits are comin' a little wide too," she countered.

They were circling each other, still smiling. "Well, don't wanna hurt you. You're so fragile, see. Just a weak, little slip of a girl," he said. "Unless . . . you wanna prove me wrong?"

"Oh, I'll show you all right," she growled playfully, then charged at him. He blocked her hits easily, and she parried his blows with just as much ease.

It was almost like they were at the Bronze, dancing like they had that night on their (Kathryn realized) only real date. It was exhilarating and sexy and it turned her on. Kathryn remembered why she had liked doing it so much. She liked the gleam in his eyes, and how loudly he laughed. He had such a distinctive laugh, and she even caught him giggling a few times. She didn't understand how he could look so hardcore, then switch to sexy or cute in a second. She wondered if he realized he did that.

She swung at him and he caught her wrist, then caught the other, so that she was still, her face inches from his. He tilted his head at her. "You are a pretty li'l thing, you know," he told her, then kissed her nose, before spinning her outward, like they were dancing.

"You really think so?" she asked.

He spun her to his chest. "I know so."

She blushed a little, then realized one hand was on her waist, and the other was entwined with her fingers. He started swaying a bit, and she pressed her body against his fully, looking up into his eyes.

He was humming something, and she realized he hummed it a lot. He hummed it the first night she met him, when he was working on her history assignment. Thinking of history reminded her of Mister Paulson, but she immediately shoved that thought away. She didn't want to think depressing thoughts while she swayed to whatever song Spike was humming.

"What are you humming? You hum it a lot."

He chuckled. "Why? Like it?"

She nodded slightly. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it, although she knew she should have been able to. It was slow, but she had the feeling that he changed the pace whenever he liked. Stayed on a note longer than he should have, or skipped over one if he felt like it. It had been a quicker pace that night he worked on her assignment; same song, just quicker.

"Don't know. Sounds familiar, but . . . You just hum it a lot."

"Hum other things, too." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Somethin' 'bout you must make me think o' this song in particular."

"Well, I like it. Makes me feel . . . content." She listened to him hum for a moment longer. "What is it?"

"Just a slower version of _Rebel Yell,"_ he revealed. She blinked a few times. It surprised her. "What? The song is romantic. A bit. Sexual, too. Listen to the words next time."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I like that song. It's cool." She looked him over. "Guess I shoulda figured you were a fan of Billy Idol. Homage, much?"

He pulled away from her slightly. "Hey, I'll have you know he stole the image from me."

She chuckled and stared into his eyes, and eventually he started humming again. She felt warm and beautiful when he hummed and stared at her the way he was. When he looked at her that way, she could forget Drusilla even existed, and felt like he could maybe even love Kathryn, too.

* * *

Buffy slowed to a stop when she saw Kathryn and Spike fighting each other, and instinctively she pulled her stake higher and stalked towards them, with every intention of killing the peroxided pest. It wasn't until Willow put her hand on her arm to halt her that she realized they weren't fighting, but sparring.

She watched the two of them giggle and laugh and eventually start slow dancing. Willow and Buffy were in a copse of bushes and trees and were a few yards away, so the words they spoke were lost on her, but Buffy's anger slowly drifted away when she watched them.

"He's in love with her," Buffy realized aloud.

"Huh? Wow, you kinda made a full switcheroo. How you figure?"

Buffy shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Look at 'em. When . . . as much as I want to projectile vomit thinking on it . . . but when we were engaged, he loved me. So I know what it looks like. I know how he acts. And look at him--playing around, being . . . happy. Angel and I were never . . . never like this. They're . . . happy. He really does love her, as much as I really, really hate saying that."

"Took you awhile to clock on. I figured that out ages ago," Willow whispered, moving closer to Buffy.

Buffy felt her chest tighten as she looked at them. "I think . . . I think maybe . . . you were right. Maybe . . . I am being a little too, y'know, hitting-close-to-home. It's just . . . I can't look at them without thinking of me and Angel. I don't want to admit that maybe Spike can love, because . . . Well, because he doesn't have a soul, and Angel did, and if Angel and I didn't work when he had a soul, but they do, maybe . . . there's something wrong with me."

Willow put her hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Buff, you and Angel are not Spike and Kathryn. In case you hadn't noticed, Spike and Angel are completely different vampires. They really love each other. Maybe we should give 'em a chance."

"I've been really kinda supportive here, Will."

Willow sighed. "Yeah, to their faces."

"That was before I saw . . ." She let out a small sigh, and she looked at the ground. "Come on, let's go. I've got somethin' I need to do," she muttered quietly.

They both started walking in the opposite direction. "It's kinda unconventional. The two of them, I mean. You okay with unconventional?" Willow inquired. "I mean, really. Not the whole I'm-cool-with-it when they're around, but you know, actually cool with it for real."

Buffy thought about them. "Spike's always gonna make me cringe, but . . . I'm cool with it. It's just . . . Lately, you know, with Parker and Angel . . . I'm hurt. I'm scared of getting hurt again, with Riley, with . . . with anyone, and maybe . . . You know, I shouldn't be. Look at her--she's not afraid, and she's happy. I don't wanna miss out on all that 'cause I'm afraid of a less-than-happy ending. So yeah. I'm cool with it."

Willow was nodding beside her and worrying her lips between her teeth. "So. Unconventional is a go." Willow sighed, then looked Buffy in the eye. "I'm in love with a girl."

At first Buffy thought she'd heard wrong, but then she realized she hadn't. It didn't compute, either. Willow loved Oz. Willow loved Xander. She liked guys; not girls. It didn't make sense. Willow's eyes widened in fear, but then Buffy nodded slowly, finally accepting that Willow loved a girl, and it didn't change who she was. Even if it was still a little confusing and almost entirely out of left field.

"Well what you waitin' for Will? Tell me about her."

* * *

Buffy took in a deep breath and knocked on the door, knowing that Riley wasn't sleeping yet. He had probably just gotten in from his sweep of the grounds. She smoothed the front of her shirt just before Riley opened the door. He was shirtless, a good look for him, and his eyes were narrowed slightly. "Buffy. Hi. Uh, come in," he said, opening the door fully so she could walk in.

She had a plethora of emotions running through her. Mostly, she was nervous. She'd let Riley paw at her, and they had gotten into serious make out sessions that lasted hours, but she had never allowed him to take a step further. He never pushed, and she was glad of it, but she had to admit she was afraid of letting him do so, not because of morals, but because of the disaster that had been her sex life so far.

When the door shut, she rounded on him, her hands wringing. "Um, hey. Something, uh . . . Something came to me during patrol."

"What's that?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

"You make me happy, and uh . . . I've been afraid to be happy for awhile. It's just, any time I get a happy--um, I meant, anytime I start getting happy with my situation--things go badly. But . . . You know what? Why miss all the good times in fear of things going badly? Things are gonna go badly no matter what, so . . . Why not be happy at least some of the time, right?" She knew she sounded nervous, and she knew her smile was faltering, and she was worried he was going to laugh her out of the room because she was sounding so childish. "Do you get me?"

He smiled, and there was a look of understanding in his blue eyes. He held the side of her face. "I think I'm following."

"Good." She placed a hand on his bare chest. "Just promise you won't leave me alone in the morning."

"I promise."

* * *

A/N--Cue retching. Ugh, I am not a big fan of Riley/Buffy. Notice I didn't write them kissing. But Marc Blucas is an awesome actor. Watch _The Jane Austen Book Club_ for evidence. He's not in it a lot, but if you like Austen novels, it's worth a go. Also, _The Killing Floor_ is a good Blucas film if you like thrillers, and so is _Thr3e._ He's the main actor in both those films, and _Thr3e_ is also a great novel worth reading. As much as I dislike Riley/Buffy, I do sorta like the character of Riley. I would rather have ruffy than bangel, though.

Oddly (don't ask how) this chapter came off slightly spuffy, and needed a good rewriting. I usually write and read spuffy. If you're interested in my spuffy stuff, I do have an account on The Spuffy Realm under the same penname (Ashes Falling.) I've only written one fic, though.


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